Haddock
by who is sabrina
Summary: A night fury is plagued by haunting visions of a viking known only as "Hiccup", and is given a countdown to the end of the world. Loosely inspired by Richard Kelly's "Donnie Darko". Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD.
1. The Moment

The Red Death laughed, long and low and loud, and the sound echoed pleasingly through the cavernous empty nest. The dragons were all out, sent on a raid, and soon they would be back. Back with piles and piles of delicious food that all went to her alone. Not that they knew that.

She laughed again, pleased with her own cunning and deception. Oh, how she could act. The humans are evil, she had insisted. They kill us just for sport, she had lectured. They were an evil race that needed to be defeated, for the sake of goodness. The dragon raids were not unprovoked attacks on humans best left alone. No, they were heroic crusades against the powers of evil in this world. Praised acts of defiance against the maleficence of the human race. She was simply leading them all in a rebellion, a battle, a war. A great, great war in which goodness would surely triumph.

Oh, yes. They had all bought into the story. They had all been tricked, deceived, brainwashed. The Red Death used them, day after day, for her own lazy enjoyment, and not a single one of them was the wiser. The lava beneath her bubbled up in a sudden but pleasing escalation of warmth, and the Red Death grinned a terrible grin, full of teeth and fangs and villainy. Soon all the little dragons wrapped so neatly around her claw would be back, dumping loads of the vikings' food down into the pit of lava so conveniently hidden by steam and smoke. Getting rid of the vile and contaminated food into which the humans had seeped their corruption and wickedness. Or so they thought. The idiot inferiors all believed her so readily, it almost made her sick. Well, you know. Almost. The Red Death's stomach growled suddenly as she anticipated the onslaught of rich nutrition and flavor; the sound of it rumbled through the volcano like the tremors that precede an eruption. Quietly, she lowered herself into the steaming lava bath, letting the vapors rise around her in an obscuring veil. And she waited, intently, for the whispers of approaching wings. She grinned again, allowed herself one last, evil laugh before the others would return.

Oh, it was _good_ to be wicked...

 **...**

The night fury streaked expertly through the sky that was filled with the yells and roars of humans and dragons alike. The humans' fires lit the night sky, and illuminated the total chaos that erupted from every direction. Dragons flew every which way, human weapons sailed through the sky, nets sprang up from the most unlikely of places. But none of this chaos disturbed the night fury in the slightest. He was used to this. He was professional. He was skilled. Just a couple of shots from him, and the fight turned abruptly in the dragons' favor. Really, it was almost too easy.

The night fury fired another plasma blast with consummate ease, and that was precisely when it happened.

Mid-flight, from seemingly nowhere, a figure appeared suddenly in the sky before him. Black as the night, its silhouette barely visible in the night sky, it stayed, stationary, before him. Of course, such a sight would be nothing out of the ordinary, if it were another dragon. But this figure... this figure was no dragon.

With a swooping sense of dread, and an intense sense of surreality, the night fury realized that the figure before him was... a human. A viking. A kind of chill ran down his spine as the dragon remained in place, transfixed at the impossible sight before him. How was he seeing this?

The viking moved a few steps closer, walking as if the air beneath him was solid ground. And although closer, the viking's features were no more distinguishable beneath the long black cloak that was draped around him. Seeming too big for the noticeably thin frame, the cloak obscured the viking's face and body the way the darkness of the night obscured the night fury himself. It unsettled the dragon to no end, but he did not move - only watched as the figure moved slowly closer still. A glint of starlight reflected suddenly off of something, and the dragon noticed, with a further thrill of fear, that the human was holding a length of cold steel in its left hand - a small but sharp dagger. And as the viking continued to approach, the night fury noted that the dagger was not clean. The blade was dripping with blood. The figure stopped its movements, and stood still just a few feet from the night fury. For a moment, there was only silence as time stood still. And then the figure spoke.

"Follow me." And without thinking about it - without knowing why - without even registering it - the night fury followed the mysterious figure, compelled inexplicably forward like a moth to flame. The figure retreated, still facing the dragon, and then, quite suddenly, it dropped. Obediently, the night fury followed.

And just as the dragon dropped, a bola whisked with deadly force right through the spot he had just been occupying. It missed him only by inches.

With wide eyes filled partly with fear and partly with curiosity, the night fury studied the vision of the viking. This viking had saved his life. Had he not lured the dragon out of the way, he surely would have been hit, and downed.

"Why did you save me?" the night fury asked. Although he knew humans did not ordinarily understand the tongue of dragons, he had the feeling that this figure was different. But the viking did not respond. Only stood there, draped in darkness, the dagger in its left hand still glinting dangerously. After a minute of silence, the dragon tried again.

"What do you want?" he asked. Again, silence. Thick, heavy silence that could be sliced with a claw. But this time the dragon did not attempt conversation again. Something told him that there was something important coming, something he needed to hear. The viking held his complete attention, and suddenly, the noises of the raid seemed to vanish. The screams and yells and roars dimmed to a dull, unimportant background, and the viking's ethereal presence seemed to fill all of the night fury's awareness. The dragon waited with bated breath.

"Six days, fourteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, twelve seconds. That is when the world will end." The viking pronounced this gravely, his voice full of meaning and gravity. His cloaked head nodded once, slowly, to the night fury, and then the figure was gone.

Nothing remained but the blackness of the night, the cold glimmer of distant stars, and the faint resounding echoes of the battle below.


	2. Normalcy Again

_"Six days, fourteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, twelve seconds. That is when the world will end." The viking pronounced this gravely, his voice full of meaning and gravity. His cloaked head nodded once, slowly, to the night fury, and then the figure was gone._

 _Nothing remained but the blackness of the night, the cold glimmer of distant stars, and the faint resounding echoes of the battle below._

 **...**

The night fury continued to stare at the place where the viking had been, transfixed and deeply disturbed. But just as the viking had vanished, the veil that had seemed to obscure the rest of the world left, too, and the battle became as loud as it once was. Jarring himself back to reality with almighty effort, the night fury turned away from the obtrusively empty patch of sky, and streaked, unseen, towards the viking village. There was no time to question his own sanity, no time to listen to the viking's words rattling around in his mind. No, they had a battle to win.

His wings created a high-pitched whistle that screamed through the chilling night air, and then he shot another plasma blast with unerring aim. The blast made contact with the net that a few vikings were using to hold down some dragons. The vikings shouted and scattered, narrowly escaping being burnt to a crisp, and the dragons underneath broke cleanly free and soared immediately into the sky. One of them - a blue Deadly Nadder - approached him quickly, radiating relief and gratitude.

"Thank you," she told him fervently and genuinely, her wings flapping hard to keep up with the night fury's unparalleled speed. "I mean, really - thank you! Who knows what those horrible vikings would have done to us." She shuddered, a flash of fear igniting in her eyes for a moment.

"You're welcome," the night fury responded with a smile. Or at least, what was supposed to be a smile. The ominous countdown was echoing in his ears, and he wasn't sure if he had managed a proper smile. The Nadder's grin faltered slightly, and the night fury got his answer. Definitely not a smile. Probably closer to a worried grimace. "I'm just glad I was able to free you guys," he told her, conversing to make up for his lack of enthusiasm. "It's always a great feeling to return home with every dragon that went out."

"It is," she agreed. "And, speaking of which, there are so many of us dragons at the nest. I don't think I've flown with you before."

"No, I don't think so, either," the night fury confirmed, and he smiled at her - a real one this time. "It's good to meet you."

"And you," she smiled. The night fury slowed his pace ever so slightly, adjusting his speed so as not to wear the Nadder out. Together they flew for home, to the island upon which their nest lay, and whence the Red Death awaited. They passed the long flight in conversation about this and that - the places they had flown, the storms they had survived, the strange and wonderful dragons they had encountered over time. And by the time the enormous flock of dragons had arrived back at their island, the night fury had nearly forgotten all about the disturbing viking.

With practiced ease, the dragons flew in a synchronized rhythm, dipping down into the opening that led to their warm and comforting nest. The dragons that had been assigned to fight landed lightly upon the rocky edges of the nest, and the dragons that had been assigned to steal food flew easily to the center of the nest. They hovered there, above the smoky lava that simmered and bubbled below, and then released their catches. They watched as the humans' food disappeared into the veil of smoke and steam, on their way to being incinerated by the lava's disintegrating temperatures.

"Good riddance," the blue Nadder remarked as the last of the food fell out of sight. "The raids may be dangerous," she said, "but when I see the remnants of evil being destroyed, I can't help but feel like I've done something good."

"Yeah," the night fury agreed vaguely, distracted. He had always felt that way before, but for some elusive reason, he didn't feel that way tonight. He watched as the last of the dragons perched happily around the nest, and he wondered, out of nowhere, whether they _were_ doing the right thing. But then he shook himself. Of course they were doing the right thing. Humans were evil; dragons were good. By fighting against evil, they were not just doing what was right. They were doing what was required - good _always_ triumphed evil.

 _Then why_ , a small voice in the back of his mind asked, _do we never really triumph?_

Just then, the nest began to rumble slightly, a loud noise beginning to emanate from below. The dragons rose up to sit expectantly where they were, eyes looking down, where they knew the Red Death would emerge. Sure enough, the blanket of steam swirled, disturbed, and then the Red Death arose, colossal head first, out of the scorching heat below.

"Well done, dragons," she spoke, her thunderous voice echoing around the caverns, reaching the ear of each and every dragon present. "I congratulate you on another victory against the cruelty and viciousness of the human race. Sleep well, my admirable dragons." The other dragons made noises of contentment and pride, but the night fury remained silent. He wasn't feeling proud tonight.

The Red Death moved, readying to descend back into the roiling lava beneath them. And then, as she began to descend, she suddenly met eyes with the night fury. This was nothing unusual - it was not like she never made eye contact with her dragons. But what _was_ unusual was the look in her eyes. This, the night fury noted with a little chill, was a look he had not seen before. The usual warmth and pleasantness she showed them all was gone. In its place was a hard gaze - cold and calculating, as if she were reading the same doubtful thoughts that had just gone through his mind. For a second, the night fury could just imagine what was running through her mind.

 _The night fury knows... What shall I do with him?_

The night fury shuddered in the coldness of her gaze, but then, quite suddenly, she had disappeared into the steam's obscurity, and was gone. Like that, the feeling left him, and the warmth of the nest returned to him suddenly. He felt foolish. What was he thinking?

"Good night," the Deadly Nadder told him sweetly, interrupting his thoughts. He looked over at her, smiled back.

"Good night," he returned. She paced a respectful distance away and then laid down to sleep. _Yes_ , the night fury thought. _That's exactly what it is. A good night._ He had no idea where the odd, suspicious thoughts had suddenly come from, and he huffed angrily, displeased with himself. He was just out of sorts today. Yes, that was it. He was out of sorts. He had probably imagined the whole strange experience with the mysterious shrouded viking. A good night's sleep would fix everything. He'd be back to normal in no time. So convinced, the night fury burned the rocky surface beneath him to a pleasingly warm temperature, and then settled down. He closed his eyes, curled his tail, and spread his tail fins out like a blindfold over his eyes. All he needed was some sleep. Then everything, surely, would be right once more.


	3. The Viking's Return

_So convinced, the night fury burned the rocky surface beneath him to a pleasingly warm temperature, and then settled down. He closed his eyes, curled his tail, and spread his tail fins out like a blindfold over his eyes. All he needed was some sleep. Then everything, surely, would be right once more._

 **...**

The night fury awoke slowly and gently, eased into consciousness by some instinctual sense that it was dawn. The night's sleep had been wonderful, and his current position was so comfortable that he found it quite difficult to move. And really, he reasoned, he had no need to. So he laid there in silence, breathing deeply and evenly, relaxed in the promise of a new day.

At least, he _was_ relaxed. Until, that is, he suddenly got the feeling that he was being watched. Still hoping for a longer rest, the night fury shook his head quickly and tried to ignore it. But the feeling only intensified. Though his eyes were closed and he heard nothing, he could feel, quite distinctly, someone's eyes on him. Staring at him, boring through him. Tension quickened the night fury's breathing and tightened his muscles. _So much for the restful morning,_ he thought wryly.

Finally heeding the ever-intensifying sensation of being watched, the night fury opened his eyes and raised his head, uncurling himself and looking around for the source of the feeling. It didn't take him long. _And so much for 'back to normal'_ , he lamented.

For anything resembling 'normal' seemed to have left him for good, as the night fury found himself facing, once more, the mysterious viking in the sinister cloak that hid him so well. The human was just as the dragon remembered him. Covered in the same cloak, features still invisible. Same bloody dagger glinting in his slender left hand. The night fury glanced quickly around, and noted that he was alone. The other dragons had likely flown out for breakfast.

"You're back," the dragon remarked, curiously, ignoring the sense of foreboding that seemed to radiate constantly from the figure before him.

"I am," the viking confirmed. And although the viking's face was hidden, the night fury thought he had heard a smile in the human's voice. But then again, maybe he was imagining things. He seemed to be getting pretty good at that, lately. Quietly, the night fury waited for the viking to say more, but it seemed that the other was perfectly content in the silence. Normally, the night fury wouldn't mind, but right now, he had questions.

"Who are you?" the dragon asked, voice still dripping with obvious curiosity.

"My name is Hiccup." Again, the night fury could swear he heard a smile.

"Hiccup?" the dragon echoed. He was the one grinning now, albeit tentatively. "Are all human names that strange?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Hiccup chuckled. Toothless huffed out a little laugh, part amused and part amazed. Not about the human names; he had always figured them for strange. But what he hadn't figured was this particular human. This odd, illusive viking who seemed to defy every human stereotype at every turn. The humans were supposed to be evil - cold, vicious killers who held no stock in morals or manners. And yet, here was Hiccup - laughing, smiling, kind Hiccup, who had saved the night fury's life.

"Hiccup?" the dragon asked. "Why _did_ you save me?" But again the viking made no answer. The night fury frowned, and looked away, concentrating hard. Maybe he just wasn't asking the right question. What should he ask? After a few seconds of silence, the dragon thought of another question.

"What do you want?" he asked. Again there was no answer. The night fury looked to Hiccup, and instead found himself staring at an empty space. The viking was gone.

"Hiccup?" he called out to the empty room.

"Who's Hiccup?" asked a new voice. Startled, the night fury spun around. There was the blue Deadly Nadder he had met yesterday. Her head was cocked to the side in curiosity, and her demeanor was expectant. She waited patiently for his answer.

"Hiccup!" he repeated, slightly frantically. "Oh, that! Ha!" He was stalling, thinking quickly for any plausible explanation, because he would _not_ be telling her that he may or may not be certifiably insane. "Hiccups. I was just- I thought I heard- Do you have them?" he stuttered. The Nadder laughed lightly - a musical sound - and the night fury's nerves began to settle.

"Why are you so nervous?" she laughed. It was a rhetorical question, and the night fury inwardly sighed with relief. He had no answer to give her. "And no," she added. "I don't have the hiccups. Do you?"

"I have a Hiccup," he said, and then mentally slapped himself. "I mean, hiccups! I have some. I had them." He coughed, feeling painfully awkward. "They're gone now," he finished lamely.

"Too bad," she said.

"Too bad?"

"Yes. I heard of a very good hiccup cure, and I wanted to try it."

"What is it?" the night fury asked.

"A flight," the Nadder replied happily. She was tilting her spiked head towards the nest entrance now, an unspoken question. The night fury grinned.

"You know," he said, "I think they might be coming back. We should try it."

"Good call."

 **...**

The night fury folded his wings and dipped expertly into the dragon's nest, landing smoothly on the nearest perch. The usual lightness he felt at the end of a wonderful flight filled him, and he laid down, content. The sky was beginning to darken, and most of the dragons were, like him, relaxing peacefully inside the nest. With the seemingly-infinite supply of curiosity that constantly simmered within him, the night fury rested his head comfortably on his front claws, and began to watch the other dragons.

They milled about the nest in a slow, casual manner, and the night fury tracked their movements with his keen eyes. A Monstrous Nightmare flared up suddenly, likely attempting to impress the handful of dragons in its vicinity. A Gronckle, unimpressed, flew idly by. It passed by a purple Nadder, which the night fury began to watch, and then he saw it.

He was not sure _what_ he was seeing at first. But, before his very eyes, what looked like a sort of liquid sphere began to emerge from the Nadder's chest. The Nadder continued happily grooming herself, seemingly unaware. Bewildered, the night fury looked around at the nearby dragons. No one seemed to notice. Was he... the only one that could see it?

With intense curiosity, he watched the Nadder closely, and the liquid sphere began to move. Slowly, it elongated into a sort of wobbling tube, and began to extend out in the direction of the center of the nest. As the night fury watched, it traveled all the way to an outcrop on the other side of the nest, and stopped. Looking back to the Nadder, he felt a chill run down his spine.

She had stopped grooming herself, and instead took flight. The night fury watched, a sense of surreality burrowing into him, as the Nadder followed exactly the path of the liquid sphere. Just as the sphere had done, she flew through the center of the nest, and landed lightly on the other side.

But that was not the end of it. The blue Gronckle next to her caught the night fury's attention, because there it was again. That odd little sphere. It extended out in haphazard twists and turns, and the night fury watched as the Gronckle followed its path exactly.

And then the night fury looked down. There, on his own chest, was one of the spheres. Bubbling innocently before him, it reflected the red light of the nest, creating little sparks of red light that danced around him. The dragon chuckled quietly without really finding anything funny, and watched in a kind of daze as it elongated and began to move. It curved in a smooth arc and extended past the nest entrance, reaching out into the darkening sky beyond. Obediently, the night fury followed.

On whispering wings, he took soundlessly to the sky, unsurprised as his movements echoed exactly the sphere's path before him. He followed it out into the night, barely registering the first few stars winking into existence, and the bone-chilling air that swept against his scales. He had eyes for nothing but the path he must follow.

After a few minutes of flight, the night fury could see where the sphere ended. It was a remote rocky outcrop that overlooked the ocean. Oddly-shaped stacks of rocks created shadowy patches of dark beneath the moonlight. The place was deserted.

The night fury touched down effortlessly, and looked out over the crashing ocean below. Questions began to rush into his mind the way the tide broke against the shore. _Why was he supposed to come here? Was something supposed to happen? And why had he seen those- those whatever-they-were? And furthermore-_

He was distracted by a sudden noise. Instantly on guard, the night fury turned and peered into the darkness as far as he could see.

"Someone there?" he called cautiously.

"Only me," said a warm voice, and the night fury watched as Hiccup melted silently out of the shadows.

"Hiccup!" the night fury greeted happily. It was odd, but somehow the foreboding, dangerous, and supposedly-evil viking no longer put fear in the dragon's heart. Beneath the frightening exterior was a human that seemed - well, more dragon than human. The night fury approached Hiccup, stopping a short distance away. His pupils widened in excitement at the prospect of finally getting some answers. "Hiccup, what were those sphere things?" he asked quickly, wasting no time, lest the viking disappear again. "What do they mean? How come I can see them?"

Hiccup simply shrugged, an action that looked strange beneath his sinister black cloak. And all of a sudden, inexplicably, the night fury had a sudden desire to take that cloak off of him. What did he look like, this viking that was so different? This strange human that was possibly just a figment of his own imagination? Seized with a fierce curiosity, the dragon moved forward, intending to remove his savior's cloak. He had no doubt that the human would let him.

But before he reached Hiccup, the night fury stopped. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Although the chilly night air was the only thing that separated the two of them, the night fury had somehow run into a wall. At least, that's what it had felt like. Tentatively, he stuck a claw out, and watched with unconcealed amazement as it hit something semi-solid. Where his claw had touched, a ripple of force radiated from it, warping his view of Hiccup for a moment. Awed, he shoved his head against it, and watched the invisible wall ripple once more. He looked, wide-eyed, to Hiccup. The cloaked viking reached out a hand and touched the wall, too. It rippled beneath his small hand, with more force than it had done with the night fury.

"How are you doing this?" the dragon asked, marveling at the sight before him.

"I can do anything," Hiccup said. "And so can you." The dragon tilted his head in confusion. What was Hiccup saying? And then, unbidden, the night fury began to feel a strange kind of power escalate within him. He felt suddenly stronger - unstoppable - and the blood began to rush through his veins with unusual speed. The adrenaline built within him, and for the briefest of moments, he teetered on the edge of an epiphany. _Yes. Yes, Hiccup was right. He could do anything. Anything-_

But then the moment ended. The power he had felt receded as a nervous sort of fear replaced it. What was happening to him? Was this even real? Had he somehow lost his grip on reality? Maybe he was insane. Maybe all this was in his head. Maybe it was imagination, or hallucination. Uncertain, the night fury stepped back, away from Hiccup, away from the vision of the haunting viking. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but the human remained firmly in place, watching him.

"Where do you come from?" the dragon asked, fearful. Scared of just what the answer might be. _Your mind. Your dreams. Your nightmares._ For a long moment, the viking said nothing, and the dragon began to worry that this was another question the human would not answer. But then the viking responded, and the reply was nothing he had expected. Not even close.

"Do you believe in time travel?"


	4. A Question of Time

_"Where do you come from?" the dragon asked, fearful. Scared of just what the answer might be. Your mind. Your dreams. Your nightmares. For a long moment, the viking said nothing, and the dragon began to worry that this was another question the human would not answer. But then the viking responded, and the reply was nothing he had expected. Not even close._

 _"Do you believe in time travel?"_

 **...**

The wind whistled through the night fury's wings as he flew with unnerving speed back to the dragons' nest. The coldness of it did not even register with the dragon; his entire attention was consumed with Hiccup's voice, echoing around in his mind. Those strange, unexpected, bewildering words that had sent the night fury spiraling even deeper into a descent into madness - or, perhaps, an ascent into the extraordinary.

 _Do you believe in time travel?_

The nest came into view, and the night fury began to fly faster still. Hiccup's single, pointed question had the dragon desperate for answers. Though he was not completely sure how to go about getting them, the night fury knew exactly where to start. So, he folded his wings and dived silently into the nest, landing lightly next to the pale blue Gronckle he knew would still be awake. With a quiet wheezy laugh, the Gronckle raised his head and opened his eyes, turning to consider the dragon before him.

"Ah, it's the night fury, back again," he laughed slowly but pleasantly. "I haven't seen you in a while. Was starting to think I'd have to wait for the next life." The Gronckle laughed again, but this time, it degenerated into an undignified series of gasping coughs. The night fury waited them out patiently.

"Are you alright?" he asked when the Gronckle had finished.

"Oh, you know I'm fine," the other dragon smiled weakly. The night fury smiled back. He had always admired the Gronckle's positivity and sense of humor; even in the darkest of times, the dragon always had a smile or a low, rumbling laugh at the ready. But although his laughter and optimism were well-known, this Gronckle had always been known among the dragons for something else. "You seek some wisdom, friend?" the aging Gronckle asked kindly.

"I do," the night fury smiled back, somewhat sadly. Really, it was all the other dragons came to him for. When someone visited the Gronckle, it was for a bit of advice or knowledge, and nothing else. The night fury used to visit him some time ago, just to try to provide the friendship the Gronckle no doubt had always wanted. But he hadn't come in a long time, and the guilt began to stir uneasily in the pit of the night fury's stomach.

"Alright, well, you go ahead and ask away," the Gronckle encouraged. "Oh, but one thing first. Don't feel bad about not coming around. There are plenty of other dragons that come around and entertain me." He laughed again, genuinely happy, and the night fury felt the guilt begin to melt away. And as it did, the hunger for answers came back with more force than before. "I can see you have questions just burning inside of you," the Gronckle observed shrewdly. "So why don't you ask them?" The night fury nodded, his insides churning with anticipation. He looked quickly around to make sure no one was listening in. He leaned forward, closer to the Gronckle, and asked, very quietly:

"Do you know anything about time travel?" The Gronckle said nothing, but stared at him, long and hard. His old, wide eyes that had seen so much were studying the night fury with unsettling intensity, and the Gronckle still said nothing. Merely watched, clearly deliberating quite fiercely upon something. The night fury squirmed slightly, and wished that he had eased into the subject with just a bit more tact. But what was done was done. So he waited with bated breath for the Gronckle's response.

"Okay," the Gronckle said finally, under his breath, and he nodded once, with certainty. Just as the night fury had done not moments before, the Gronckle looked conspiratorially in all directions, as if checking for eavesdroppers. Then he turned back to the dragon before him, and nodded meaningfully to the nest's entrance. "Let's go for a flight." Then he spread his aging wings and left. Curiosity bubbling within him and threatening to overflow, the night fury followed.

For a few minutes, the two of them flew in complete silence, each of them occupied with their own thoughts. Finally, the Gronckle landed heavily on a small sea stack just big enough for the two of them. The night fury touched down beside him, and the older dragon began to speak immediately.

"Now, I don't know why you're interested in this subject all of a sudden. But I don't need to know. This conversation is about what you need to know. You see, you're very lucky, my friend. I happen to be the _only_ dragon who can tell you what you _really_ want to know." The Gronckle paused for breath, and the night fury felt his heart race faster in excitement. "I can tell you because it just so happens that this was the very subject that intrigued me as a youth." The night fury could not help but vocalize his amazement at this.

"It was?!" he exclaimed, awed. "Well, then, you must be an expert!" The black dragon hummed happily, thrilled at the idea of discovering everything he wanted to know, enthralled at the chance of unraveling the meaning behind the mysterious liquid spheres. But the Gronckle was shaking his head.

"No," he said firmly, and the night fury felt his mood begin to sink like rocks into the sea. " _But_ ," he added pointedly, "I can direct you to the expert." Hope began to fill the dragon again, and he started to pace, unable to keep still. He waited for the knowing laugh to come from his Gronckle friend... but it never did. Bewildered, the night fury looked, only to find the Gronckle straight-faced and serious, more solemn than ever before. His uncharacteristic grimness made the night fury settle down quickly, becoming as still and somber as the Gronckle before him.

"What is it?" the night fury asked.

"This is not something to be undertaken lightly," the Gronckle cautioned. "I must warn you now - going to see this expert is _dangerous_."

"Dangerous? How?"

"Well..." the Gronckle hesitated. "You will understand when I give you the expert's identity." The night fury nodded, and sat quietly, expectantly. But the Gronckle seemed oddly reluctant.

"Is something wrong?" the night fury asked. "I've never seen you so unwilling to give information. You usually spew facts at anyone with half a mind to listen." The Gronckle smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. There was a kind of nervousness that hung about him.

"It's just that..." the Gronckle trailed off, considering the night fury carefully. He seemed to debate something internally once more, before he shook his head. "No," he mumbled to himself. And then he spoke up. "Part of me is afraid that you'll think differently of me, after I tell you." The night fury said nothing, at a loss for words, but his face reflected quite accurately his utter confusion. "None of this makes any sense to you now, I know. But it will when I've told you. And I _will_ tell you," he resolved. "Because - if I may be honest - you seem... different. Different than the other dragons. Something about you leads me to believe that you, more than anyone, would be open to change." As he said this, he studied the night fury carefully.

"I'm glad," the younger dragon said fervently. "I _am_ different, in many ways, and I promise I will always think of you highly, no matter what." This seemed to harden the Gronckle's resolve, and he cleared his throat, preparing to speak. This was it, the night fury knew. This was important. The key to the answers he had been seeking so desperately since the night that fateful bola whisked harmlessly past him. He moved in close, not wanting to miss a word.

"Everything I know about time travel," the Gronckle began, "I learned from her. This expert. And the reason I was loath to tell you about this expert is because... well, because she's a human." At this, the night fury had to stop himself from physically taking several steps backwards in surprise. _A human? A dragon, learning from a human?_

"I know what you must be thinking," the Gronckle started in again hurriedly, "but it's not how you imagine. You see, this human is very, very wise. But what makes her different from the other humans is that she does not speak the viking language. She draws instead - makes symbols in the dirt. And sometimes, when she is in her home alone, she does these drawings. And, incredibly, these drawings make sense! The human was never aware of my presence, let me assure you. But I would sneak to her house, and watch from the roof as she drew the most marvelous things. Such knowledge I would never have expected to come from humans. I guess they are not all quite what we believe." He said the last sentence in a low, quiet voice, as if fearful some other dragon would hear them. But they were miles from anyone, the sky was clear and empty, and the two dragons were free to say whatever they would. The night fury did so.

"Yes," he mused, nodding contemplatively. "I agree with you. I don't think they are quite what we imagine them to be." He thought again of little Hiccup, leading him out of danger and visiting him in kindness. He thought of the smile in the viking's voice.

"Maybe not, but we must not be complacent. So they have knowledge and wisdom - they still have killed thousands of us, and continue to do so. Therefore, if you go to see this expert, you must be careful. Thankfully, her hut is very high in the sky, and is often obscured from the rest of the village by clouds. You can fly safely without being seen. Land on her rooftop without alerting her to your presence, and just watch her. She will draw, and you will learn. It is as simple as that."

"Thank you," the night fury told the other dragon, an enormous grin sliding onto his face. He couldn't wait to see this expert. He would do it immediately, under cover of night. Go and watch and learn. Begin to understand his visions of Hiccup. Learn of the liquid spheres. Discover, bit by bit, what Hiccup meant when he had hinted so teasingly at time travel.

 _Do you believe in time travel?_

"One more thing," the Gronckle called, bringing the night fury out of his thoughts. He looked back, still crouched and ready for takeoff. "I warned you very clearly of the dangers," the Gronckle told him, voice low and gravelly. Perhaps it was the grave note in his voice, or the cold pale light of the moon, or maybe just the stiff, solid stance in which he held himself - but whatever it was, the Gronckle was looking older than he ever had. Weighed down with time. Exhausted by the long journey his life had so far been. "If you are downed," he intoned grimly, "my hands are clean in this."

And with those ominous words trailing in the air behind him, the night fury took to the skies.

 **...**

Camouflaged so perfectly in the darkness of the night, the dragon flew through the viking village without worry or fear. No one would be seeing him; he was sure of that. So he traveled low to the ground, confident, and eyed with interest the viking shelters that he passed. Most were dark inside, the vikings having gone to sleep. But a few of them had fires blazing inside, the light of it shining through the windows, and the dragon could catch the briefest of glimpses at the inside of human houses. And oddly enough, he found himself interested. _A dragon, interested in humans._ The Gronckle's words about him returned to the night fury, and he laughed in a soft huff of hot breath that rose up into the chilling night air. _Different, indeed._

The human house on his right had a lighted fire, and the dragon looked in eagerly as he passed. But again he saw only the interior of the house. He had yet to see a single viking. The dragon supposed that that was a good thing, but he couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of disappointment. He was about to give it up as hopeless, and fly above the clouds to the expert's hut, when his ears suddenly perked at a sudden noise. And not just any noise, he noted. A viking voice!

"-tryin' so hard to prove himself," the voice said, accent thick, voice tinted with a touch of... was that _pity_? Bewildered, the dragon shook his head, but continued to listen with half-hearted interest as he headed to the expert's hut. His fine-tuned ears picked up the sound of footsteps - two pairs. The vikings in conversation must be walking together, he determined.

"Ack," another voice - the second viking - responded, waving off the other's comment. This voice was deeper, and decidedly less pleasant. "He shouldn't be trying at all. He just needs to accept that he's different. I have."

"Have you?" the first voice asked, and for the next few moments, there was only silence. Their footsteps stopped. The silence stretched on, and the dragon, nearly out of earshot now, began to wonder if their conversation had ended. But then the second voice spoke again, low and angry.

"I know better than anyone how _different_ Hiccup is." The viking emphasized the word 'different', but really, the word was of no importance. The word that was important was the very last one. Hiccup.

 _Hiccup?!_ the night fury wondered, amazed. Frantically, he changed direction, streaking for the place the voices had come from. _Hiccup? Had that man said 'Hiccup'? Was it possible that Hiccup... actually existed?_ The night fury wasn't sure what that would mean. But he knew one thing - he _had_ to find out. Wings beating furiously, the dragon raced to find the two vikings, and after what felt like an eternity, he reached the spot. Obscuring himself in the nearby shadows, the dragon peeked carefully around the corner.

He was greeted by darkness, and nothing more. Disappointment filled the dragon, and he looked sadly at the remaining footprints on the earth. The only trace of the people that may possibly have information on Hiccup. Unwilling to give up so easily, the night fury moved cautiously forward and sniffed the prints, trying to memorize their smells. He lifted his head and breathed in the night air, hoping to track them, but just then, the wind blew suddenly and fiercely. Smells from everywhere scattered together, making tracking impossible for the night fury. With a frustrated sigh, the dragon let it go, and lifted off into the sky once more. It was just another question to add to his ever-growing list.

Above the clouds and safely out of sight, the dragon flew in search of the viking woman's hut. One sonic blast, and he located it easily. With effortless stealth, he perched upon the surprisingly-sturdy roof, and looked down. And there she was.

In silence, the old viking woman stood. The night air whipped around her, playing with her gray hair and the wisps of fraying fabric on her clothes. One withered hand was wrapped firmly around an intricately-carved staff. The wind whipped; the clouds swirled. The hut shifted precariously in the draft. Everything moved around her, but the old woman was still. Still, silent, and calm. As if she were listening to something only she could hear. There was a strange sort of unreality about the woman, as if she were living half in this world and half in another, and it gave the night fury chills. This, clearly, was someone else who was _different_.

And then, as the dragon watched, the woman moved her staff in front of her. The night fury watched expectantly, and the viking began to draw, scratching symbols into the dirt that layered the floor of her hut. Lines first, then curves. And slowly, they began to form a picture. A generic drawing of a human, the dragon realized. The woman drew a sun at an angle above his head.

Taking a few shuffling steps, the woman moved to the other side of the platform and drew an identical human. She drew another sun, but this one she put at a different angle. Comparing the two, the dragon understood that the drawing on the right was the same human at a different time, hence the change in the sun's position. The drawing on the left was the human in the present, and the drawing on the right was the same human sometime in the future.

Slowly, the woman shuffled back to the first viking and regarded it carefully. The dragon watched, but these pictures held no significance to him. At least, not until she raised her stick yet again. She moved it in a circular motion, and the dragon watched in blatant disbelief as she drew the very same liquid sphere he had seen just hours ago. With careful expertise, she traced the sphere out further and further, extending it to form a tube-like path. Again, just as the night fury had seen. In unhurried accuracy, she extended the path all the way to the viking in the future. Then she stopped, stepped back, and examined her work. The dragon did the same.

And, incredibly, he understood. The spheres of light that only he could see - they were predictions of the future. Accurate ones. So when the dragon watched the spheres move along a path, he was really seeing the future. And that, he supposed, was kind of like time travel.

Looking out into the stars, the dragon filled his mind with thoughts of the future. Questions, epiphanies, theories, musings. He could see the future. Sometimes. What, then, did that make Hiccup? Hiccup, who, in response to the question of whence he came, had replied with the haunting question, _"Do you believe in time travel?"_. Was Hiccup from the future, then? And if he was, did that mean that he existed now? A different Hiccup, a past Hiccup? Right here, in this viking village? Was he, perhaps, the one he had chanced to hear the two unseen vikings discuss? The questions plagued him, crashing against him relentlessly, one after the other.

A little shuffling noise made the dragon look down. The old viking woman was erasing her drawings. But that was okay, the dragon realized. He had learned enough for one night. Impossibly, time travel had become a sudden reality for the night fury. He could sometimes see the future, predict the paths that others would follow. And he could see Hiccup, someone possibly _from_ the future. Possibly. Then again, he still could be going insane. How could he possibly see the future? And why would he be seeing a viking from the future? And what was all this nonsense about the end of the world?

5 days, 11 hours, 7 minutes, 48 seconds. That was all the time that was left before the world ended.

The night fury was _completely_ aware how insane that sounded.

Troubled and uncertain, he began to fly home, back to the safety of the dragons' nest. The night fury felt as if he was teetering on the edge of something. On the edge of his own sanity, probably. But some small part of him that just wouldn't give in was wondering very seriously whether he was stumbling on the edge of something momentous...


	5. The Tangent Universe

_Troubled and uncertain, he began to fly home, back to the safety of the dragons' nest. The night fury felt as if he was teetering on the edge of something. On the edge of his own sanity, probably. But some small part of him that just wouldn't give in was wondering very seriously whether he was stumbling on the edge of something momentous..._

 **...**

"I am _so_ beating you today!" the blue Nadder called confidently, a smile in her voice, and she passed the night fury up with a well-timed burst of speed.

"Oh, you mean the way you 'beat me' yesterday?" the night fury retorted with a laugh, matching her speed. They flew in perfect synchronization, the tips of their wings just inches from touching. A sea stack reared up between them, and they swerved smoothly around it, melting back into faultless togetherness the way the waters below them did.

"Oh, no," the Nadder grinned. "I'm winning this thing." And she folded her wings and dived, letting gravity help her speed. The night fury followed just behind her, and together they rounded the curve of a little island. She put on another burst of speed and disappeared around the curve. The night fury laughed and prepared himself to fly faster, ready to charge ahead of her. But at the last second, he caught something familiar out of the corner of his eye, and decided rather abruptly not to race at all. Because there on one of the island's high cliffs stood a lone figure in black, and the night fury knew immediately who it was.

The viking looked smaller than usual, with the island's rocky walls rising jaggedly around him. He stood completely still, hooded face turned up to the sky, watching as the night fury streaked towards him. The dragon landed soundlessly by the viking's side.

"Hiccup," the dragon greeted with a little contented warble. "Good day."

"Yes," Hiccup responded slowly, nodding. "Yes, it is." The viking sat down then, back against the salty rock wall. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. The dragon was struck once more by the human's smallness. He would almost seem fragile and innocent - if not for the trademark silver dagger in his hand, forever dripping a slow stream of ghastly red. The night fury wondered, for probably the millionth time, why Hiccup had this dagger. But unfortunately, this was a question the human had never deigned to answer.

"Why are you here?" the dragon asked instead, following Hiccup's gaze and staring out at the sky. It was stunningly clear today - perfect flying weather.

"I like watching you fly," Hiccup answered honestly, a fond smile in his quiet tone. "I wish I could, too."

"Humans don't fly," the night fury scoffed automatically, but even as he said it, he felt, for some inexplicable reason, that this was something wrong to say. Logic dictated that humans did not fly, could not fly, and never would. But something just beyond the edges of his understanding seemed to pull him towards the idea, until the thought of it resonated in his head like the sound of thunder in a storm. The dragon looked at Hiccup, amazement, curiosity, and confusion in his wide green eyes.

"What is it?" Hiccup asked knowingly. The night fury was sure that if he could see Hiccup's face, the viking would be smirking. His eyes would be dancing. The dragon wondered fleetingly what his human friend's eyes looked like. But the thought vanished as the viking stood abruptly.

"Are you leaving?" the night fury wondered, unable to keep the note of disappointment out of his voice. And, if he were completely honest, there was a note of anxiety in there, too. Incredibly, the strange, eerie human boy had become a kind of friend to the night fury. And each time the human vanished, the dragon was haunted by the idea that maybe he would never return. Maybe he was just an illusion, a vision, a manifestation of the dragon's own insanity. Each time the viking disappeared was just another chance that the night fury could be actually crazy. Swallowing the fear that began to make itself apparent, the dragon spoke up again, rephrasing. "You're not leaving right now, are you?" he asked. Hiccup turned and faced him, head cocking slightly as he considered the night fury before him.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"What?" the night fury wondered, surprised by this unexpected response.

"Do you trust me?" Hiccup repeated, moving closer.

"Well, yes," the night fury replied. "You saved my life." Hiccup was silent for several seconds.

"If you do trust me," he said finally, "you'll believe me when I say that I'll return." This, quite obviously, meant that he was in fact leaving now, and the night fury felt his heart sink. The disappointment must have been written on his face. "See?" Hiccup pointed out quietly, almost curiously. "You don't trust me." The viking seemed almost disappointed himself. "I need you to trust me." And so saying, he moved decisively forward, approaching the dragon. The space between them closed very quickly, and suddenly, the night fury found himself closer to the human than he had ever been before. The scent of wood and fire filled the dragon's nostrils. But the sharp metallic smell of metal was there, too, reminding the night fury all-too-well of the menacing dagger in Hiccup's hand. And then Hiccup moved, unseen eyes fixed resolutely on the dragon, and his other hand extended out until it remained just inches from the night fury's snout, palm open expectantly.

"Do you trust me?" Hiccup repeated. The night fury swallowed, a thousand thoughts and emotions racing through his mind at once. The logical side of his mind reminded him that this human had saved his life, and thus could be trusted. The instinct side of him wanted to get as far away from Hiccup's evil-looking dagger as possible. Another part of him begged to trust the human he had begun to consider as a friend. But the night fury could also smell the slightly metallic, sickening smell of the sinister blood that adorned the dagger. The seconds ticked by in their own individual eternities as the night fury debated, unsure what to do. Did he dare trust this human? The choice was agonizing, the tension tangible, and the gravity of the situation almost unbearable. And then...

Hiccup made the choice for him.

Without any hesitation, the viking turned his head and looked away.

The night fury was beyond amazed. Hiccup's dagger-free hand remained resolutely before him, but the viking's head was turned the other way. Not looking. Just trusting. The incredible, impossible human was essentially saying, _Do you trust me? Because I trust you._

 _Yes,_ the night fury knew then, fiercely and unquestionably. _Yes, I trust you._ So he moved forward ever so slightly... and placed his snout in Hiccup's hand.

A feeling indescribably wonderful and warm came over him then, and his heart beat wildly. Exhilaration rushed through the dragon's veins as he relished the inexplicable bond that was so complete it felt as tangible as the rock beneath him. Eyes closed, he rested in the moment. It felt so _right_. Fated. Destined. Inescapable. As if this moment was always meant to happen, and always would, in every universe, in every version of their world.

Slowly, the dragon opened his eyes.

Hiccup was gone.

But he would return. The night fury knew it now, beyond a doubt.

 **...**

Night settled upon the earth gently, like the wings of a mother dragon draping carefully around her young. The night fury smiled, pleased. He waited patiently as the dragons all curled up for the night, and wished the blue Nadder a cheerful "good night". And when she tucked her head beneath her wings, the night fury took off. In seconds, he was out in the cold night air, invisible in the comforting blackness. It was time to head back to the human village. Time for another lesson from the old viking woman. Time to understand more.

On this particular night, the woman drew a curve. And then she placed her staff back on a random point in the curve, and drew a straight line from there. It shot off away from the curve in a clean tangent line. Then, moving her staff back again to the curve, she drew a small _x_ at the point where the tangent veered off. The woman stood back, admired her work. The night fury studied it, too, frowning in discouragement. He waited for her to draw more, but she never did. Instead, she moved forward and methodically erased it from the sandy floor. This, the night fury knew, meant that she was done for the night, and he watched in consternation as she retreated to her bed.

Flying back to the dragons' nest, the night fury thought furiously about the maddeningly vague drawing. Usually he could understand everything she drew. Each time he went, he was rewarded with more information and more knowledge. It was wonderful, exciting, addicting.

But not tonight. Tonight, he hadn't understood her "lesson" in the slightest. But the dragon was not willing to give up so easily. As the dragons' nest came into view on the horizon, the night fury decided to get a second opinion...

 **...**

"A tangent line, eh?" the old Gronckle confirmed, nodding assuredly. "Yes, I know exactly what you're talking about."

"You do? Oh, good," the night fury rejoiced, relieved. "Could you explain it to me, please?" The Gronckle grinned at him, and a light ignited in his old brown eyes. It was the same happy look he always had when an eager listener gave him his full attention.

"I'd be glad to," he agreed. "The woman was demonstrating what is called a tangent universe."

"A tangent universe?"

"That's right. You remember the curve she drew? Well, that represents the original, normal timeline. The string of events as they were meant to happen, so to speak. Now, the little _x_ represents a moment in time with the potential to change said timeline. When this happens, a tangent universe is created. Because of the outcome of that one moment, the universe is skewed, and the string of events is changed completely. The universe is set on an entirely different course than the one originally intended. You understand?"

"Yes, I think so," the night fury murmured, thinking it over.

"I'll give you an example," the Gronckle continued. "Let's say in the original universe - the curve, you know - I was meant to be king of all the dragons." Here, the night fury laughed good-naturedly, but didn't interrupt. "But then, we get to the _x_ \- that one specific moment. Let's say that in that moment, before I become king, I've been captured by a crazy group of humans. They say they will throw one of their double-sided human weapons up into the air. If, when it lands, the black blade strikes the earth, they will kill me. If the gold blade strikes the earth, they will let me live. Now let's say that in the original universe, it lands on the gold side. I live, and end up being king of all the dragons. However, in this moment - the _x_ , you remember - the weapon lands on the black side instead. This creates a tangent universe in which events unfold differently as a consequence; I am killed, I do not become king, and everything happens differently. Does this make sense?"

"Yes!" the night fury exclaimed happily, comprehension dawning in a satisfying epiphany of sorts. "I understand it now. Thank you!"

"You're welcome," the Gronckle acknowledged. "Always happy to share my knowledge."

"I do have a question, though."

"Ask away, my friend." The night fury hesitated, and then voiced his concern.

"How do you know if a tangent universe has been created?"

"A very good question," the Gronckle commended. He remained silent for a while, thinking deeply, and then he spoke. "Well, as a tangent universe, the universe would be inherently different from the intended universe. And as such, I think, would be unstable. There would be... signs. Strange events. Abnormal occurrences. And disastrous crises that would lead, ultimately, to the eventual collapse of the universe."

Chills ran through the night fury like ice water in his veins as the Gronckle's words resonated within him. _Strange events. Abnormal occurrences._ Thoughts of Hiccup began to surface, unbidden, in his mind. He thought, too, of the odd liquid spheres. The impossible reality that time travel had become.

 _The eventual collapse of the universe._

According to Hiccup's countdown, time was running short. 2 days, 19 hours, 7 minutes, and 48 seconds were all that remained, all that stood between now and the end of the world.

"Are you alright?" the Gronckle asked, bringing the night fury out of his frightening thoughts.

"Yes," the night fury lied smoothly. "I was just thinking."

"I see," the Gronckle responded. "Of course," he added, "those are just my own thoughts on the manifestation of the tangent universe. I could be wrong," he explained fairly.

"Oh," was all the other dragon could manage. What was he supposed to think now? Was there a possibility that this wasn't a tangent universe, and that the end of the world really wasn't as imminent as he feared?

"But, if I may say so," the Gronckle put in, turning around and getting ready to fly back to the warmth of the nest. "In all of my years, I've never once been wrong." And then he spread his wings and flew away, leaving the night fury alone with his thoughts.

Horrendously uncertain, the night fury followed after him, and curled up on an isolated ledge of the dragons' nest. His troubled mind ceaselessly tossed around the question of whether or not they were currently in a tangent universe, and just how long there might be before the world's end. After all, he reasoned, the elderly Gronckle didn't know the signs of a tangent universe - not for sure. Maybe everything would be fine.

With a frustrated sigh, the night fury vowed to ask Hiccup about tangent universes when he next saw him. And then he closed his eyes with stubborn will and forced himself to get at least some semblance of rest. After an indeterminable amount of time, the dragon finally drifted off to sleep, and he dreamed of lights and universes and starry skies, and of moments that could have gone differently...


	6. The Stirring of the Clouds

_After an indeterminable amount of time, the dragon finally drifted off to sleep, and he dreamed of lights and universes and starry skies, and of moments that could have gone differently..._

 **...**

When the night fury awoke, he was aware almost immediately of a sort of discontentment in the air. Picking himself off the ground and shaking out his wings, he looked around and noticed that there were more dragons than usual inside the nest. Most mornings, nearly everyone was out looking for food or getting a stimulating flight in. This morning, however, the nest was practically full.

"I hate stormy days," he heard a passing Nightmare complain, and just like that, the night fury's worries were eased. Though the blanket of negativity still laid stiffly on the atmosphere, there was nothing really wrong - nothing serious, at least. Most dragons simply did not like to fly in storms. It was dangerous, stressful, and a lot of hard work.

But the night fury was not like most dragons. Without a second's hesitation, the black dragon spread his wings and darted through the nearest opening. The rocky red world of the nest fell away behind him, and he entered now a world of swirling, roiling gray. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance. The heavy storm clouds greatly decreased the dragon's visibility, but the night fury hummed happily anyway. Stormy weather meant there were much less dragons out flying; he would have the skies almost completely to himself. And even better, he realized, the storm would block viking sight lines, too, meaning he didn't need to wait until nightfall to head to Berk. He was getting an early lesson today. So with a light heart, the dragon flapped his wings and doubled his speed, rocketing toward the little human isle he had come to rather enjoy.

 **...**

After Gothi erased her drawings for the day, the rain began to fall. It fell lightly at first, then with steadily-increasing speed. The rain itself was not a problem, but the raging lightning and bullying winds that would soon follow were not exactly ideal flying conditions. The night fury growled quietly, torn. The swirling clouds above were arguing quite plainly for leaving; the dragon should fly home, and quickly, before the storm could delay him. But the night fury's curiosity was arguing for a different plan of action. The memory of the two vikings he had heard that night, the shock and wonderment at hearing one of them say Hiccup's name, pulled at him. The storm was coming, yes, but the dragon was faster. He could fly low to the village and listen for any talk about Hiccup. If he heard anything, he could listen and be off. Just fly a bit faster than normal and he should be able to beat the worst part of the storm with a little time to spare. It was a tempting idea.

Thunder rumbled, closer than before, and Toothless growled once again. He needed to make a choice, and soon. Play it safe, or take a chance? The rows of viking houses stretched out below him, their rooftops only just visible in the obscuring mist. He could come back, he reasoned. Look for Hiccup another time. Ah, but time - that was another issue. The countdown to the supposed end of the world ticked on relentlessly, and the night fury wondered, if he missed out on this opportunity, was he certain he would get another? No, he realized. He wasn't. If this was only shot, he was going to take it. _Besides_ , he thought as he dipped down to fly low to the ground, _safety is overrated._

Zipping by houses in a random, unorganized manner, the black dragon listened intently to the vikings inside. Some houses were quiet. In others, he could hear voices - snippets of conversation. But nobody mentioned Hiccup, and none sounded like the ones he had heard discussing Hiccup earlier. Turning right arbitrarily and swooping up a small hill, the night fury wondered if it was time to give up and turn home. The rain had begun to fall with a little more force, and now the wind was starting to kick up. The clouds above had darkened to make night approach faster. The weather would be dangerous soon. With a sigh, the night fury turned and began to head back down the hill to the sound of the reverberating thunder, closer still. But as the sound faded into echoes, a voice cut clearly through the storm.

"What are you going to do?" it asked, dripping with resignation but laced with exasperation. The night fury stopped mid-air, so utterly shocked he nearly fell to the ground. Heart pounding, the dragon landed immediately and remained still, ears straining. That voice. He _knew_ that voice.

"You already know what we're going to do, Hiccup," a second voice responded wearily. Blood began to pound fiercely through the night fury's veins, his own excitement threatening to drown out the conversation. That first voice he heard - it _was_ Hiccup's voice. And the second voice, he realized, was one of the ones he had heard that other night. "We're going after the nest," the second voice continued. "And we'll keep going after it until we find it." The man's tone was hard, unyielding.

"Do... do you think you _will_ find it?" Hiccup asked the question timidly, obviously trying to be non-confrontational, but the tone still held the faintest hint of doubt and accusation. It was odd, the night fury noted immediately. The Hiccup he knew spoke every word with the utmost assurance. Where was that confidence now?

"We will," the other viking replied angrily, voice strong with unfettered passion. "The blood will not stop until this war does, so _we_ are going to end it. Not them. Us." _The war. Them. Us._ The night fury realized, rather belatedly perhaps, that they were discussing the war between the vikings and the dragons. How strange to hear it from this perspective. The Red Death called it a war between good and evil. But now, after everything... Now the night fury was not so sure. This viking spoke of the blood the war had brought, and he was right - of course he was. There had been heavy losses on both sides. The Red Death would have them think that the vikings wanted this war - that it was part of their evil, violent ways. The humans enjoyed killing, she had often told them. But this... This didn't sound like that. In fact, from the sound of things, the people of Berk wanted this war over. Could it be that the vikings actually wanted _peace_?

The first visible bolt of lightning streaked across the sky in a web of fearful force, and the resulting crack and rumble of thunder brought the night fury out of his thoughts. The foundation of everything he thought he knew about the vikings was crumbling where he stood, but the storm reminded him that this was neither the time nor the place to deal with that. Right now, he was looking for Hiccup. And after that, he had to leave.

"...unease among the men," the nameless viking was saying bitterly. The dragon focused intensely on the voice and looked around, trying to determine which house the conversation was being held in. As the man talked, the dragon eliminated houses, hurriedly attempting to narrow it down to only one. "They are greatly discouraged; we haven't been able to locate the nest yet, and we've been searching for years. There are rumors," he began, somewhat hesitantly, as if deciding whether or not to confide in Hiccup. The night fury narrowed it down to three possible houses as the viking started again. "There are rumors that no man can find the dragons' nest." He admitted this with evident bitterness and discouragement. The dragon supposed the man was looking for some sort of encouragement, but Hiccup, it seemed, was inclined to agree with the rumor.

"I'm sure only a dragon can find the dragons' nest," the viking boy said unhelpfully, a note of finality entrenched in his tone. And at that moment, the night fury knew exactly which house it was. There, the house on the hill. With mounting excitement, the dragon swooped over to the tall wooden structure, and carefully peered through the window.

The wooden interior was alit with a soft, warm flickering glow that radiated from a large fireplace against the opposite wall. There was a sturdy wooden table just a short distance from it, and there sat a formidable-looking viking indeed. Seeming as strong and sturdy as the house itself, the viking turned slightly, staring at nothing, lost in thought. But his head was turned at just the right angle so that the night fury could see the viking's face clearly. The man's expression, oddly, was lit - but not by the fire. The dragon recognized the glow of understanding that comes with the beginnings of an idea. It was painted across the viking's face, and his eyes glinted with cunning that made the dragon nervous. But the man's expression was not the only thing that made the dragon nervous, for this man was a recognizable one. He was the viking leader.

Surprised and uncomfortable, the night fury shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked around the room once more, yearning for a glimpse of Hiccup. The dragon wondered if the voice he had heard really was Hiccup, and wondered what Hiccup would look like. Would Hiccup recognize him, know him? Or was the Hiccup he knew really from the future, a different version of the Hiccup he would see now?

But all the questions and thoughts and hopes were drenched with the rain; besides the viking leader, the room was empty. Hiccup, whoever he was and whatever he looked like, had gone. A second bolt of lightning etched itself across the stormy sky, and the closeness of it reminded the dragon that it was definitely time to leave now. Launching himself into the electrified air, he sped off for home, disappointed but also enlightened. He had not gotten to see Hiccup as he had hoped, but he had learned far, far more than he bargained for. What was he to think of vikings now?

Swooping past the last of the viking houses on his way back to the nest, he caught one last snippet of conversation. A viking woman's voice, comforting and kind, saturated with love, floated over to him clearly even through the cacophony of the storm.

"Do not be afraid, child," the woman said softly, her offspring's cries quieting in the background. "The storm is dark, but always passes."

The night fury shot out over the open ocean, Berk disappearing behind him, and he thought, astonished, on the woman's comforting reassurances. The humans were supposed to be evil, according to the Red Death. But everything he had seen from his own experience proved otherwise. Sure, they fought fiercely and violently when the dragons raided them, but how much of that was malice? Weren't they just protecting their own?

 _Do not be afraid, child. The storm is dark, but always passes._

Conflicted and guilt-ridden, the dragon flew slower, lost in his world-shattering thoughts. _Everything we know about you guys_ , he mused, _is wrong._

The twinkling stars began to peek out of the night sky as the dragon left the storm behind. The swirling gray clouds that were once so malevolent were now folding in on themselves, being blown away quietly into nothingness. But there was an odd stirring in the air, and although the storm was clearly receding, the night fury could not shake the feeling that an even bigger storm was only just beginning to brew...


	7. The Viking Beneath

_The twinkling stars began to peek out of the night sky as the dragon left the storm behind. The swirling gray clouds that were once so malevolent were now folding in on themselves, being blown away quietly into nothingness. But there was an odd stirring in the air, and although the storm was clearly receding, the night fury could not shake the feeling that an even bigger storm was only just beginning to brew..._

 **...**

It was quiet when he reached the dragons' nest. Landing softly near the entrance, the night fury listened to the soft sounds of sleeping dragons inhaling and exhaling in a slow, relaxed rhythm. The lava beneath them bubbled in the background, a comforting, soothing sound that had often lulled the black dragon into a deep restful sleep. But not tonight.

Tonight, the night fury was wide awake, head filled with new understandings, growing doubts, and paradigm shifts. The Red Death sleeping soundlessly below them all had constantly informed them of the humans' villainy. She had made her case, and the dragons had bought into it almost without question. Any who doubted the violence of the humans soon had their doubts erased as the Red Death sent them on raid after raid, battle after battle. The vikings made weapons out of everything - weapons that they held, weapons that they threw, weapons that were launched impossibly into the sky. Killing seemed to be their only aim, and time after time, dragons were brought down, crashing hard into the dirty earth. And then, the fires of war blazing around them and the ferocious viking faces leering in front of them, there was nothing left to be done. They could only watch, as the humans and their glinting metal weapons tore into them with icy sharpness, unrelenting until the darkness of death blackened their vision and, finally, took their life.

Yes, such cold-hearted murder was villainy indeed. But were the dragons not villains, too? The night fury bowed his head in his terrible epiphany, staring sorrowfully at the rusty rock beneath him, exactly the color of human blood. He knew the answer, of course. Dragons were not free of guilt in this war. The ferocious battles left both sides dirty.

Feeling slightly sick, the night fury turned to stare out at the starry night sky. The air drifting in from outside was cold and clear, refreshing. The dragon closed his eyes and leaned into the breeze, letting it waft around him and chill his scales. He wished it could cleanse him - rid him of his guilt, his sadness, his past deeds. But he doubted now whether anything could redeem him - redeem them. The other dragons were set in their ways, their experiences and the Red Death's conditioning forming a blindfold over their hardened eyes. They would not see the truth so easily, so readily. It would take something big to convince them. The dragon sighed, watching his breath mist up and float away in the cold night air. Changing their ways seemed an impossible feat.

"Hey," said a familiar voice suddenly, quiet and soft and sweet. The night fury turned to see the blue Nadder sitting hesitantly behind him, head tilted in curiosity. "Couldn't sleep either?" she asked kindly.

"No," he told her, matching her quiet tone. A Terror nearby shifted in his sleep, but didn't wake. "Not tonight," the night fury finished. He moved aside, giving the Nadder space to join him in watching the stars. "What about you?" he asked her. "Not tired?"

"Bad dreams," she explained with a small, sad smile. She stared at the stars, too, a look of longing in her eyes. He followed her gaze and watched the distant balls of light burn brightly and easily. It was serene, peaceful. _Ah, peace_ , the night fury thought wistfully. He looked back at the Nadder's longing expression. Maybe they were both searching for the same peace.

"You know," the night fury spoke up with a hesitant grin. "I heard of a very good nightmare cure, and I wanted to try it." He saw the spark of recognition light up in her eyes, immediately followed by the warmth of humor.

"What is it?" she asked, and she smiled - a real, genuine one.

"A flight," he said simply. She laughed softly - a musical sound - and together they took off.

 **...**

The stars seemed closer now. Maybe it was the fact that they were outside, or maybe it was the pleasure of good company, but either way, the stars _did_ seem closer. They glinted with a warm, happy light, and the night fury hummed softly in contentment and peace.

He and the blue Nadder were lying next to each other on a cliff's edge, and had spent the previous hour or so talking lightly and watching the numerous stars. But as the night grew later, the Nadder had finally succumbed to sleep. So the night fury laid there, awake but comfortable, watching the stars with the sound of the Nadder's soft breathing on his right. It was a nice moment.

He turned his head to watch the Nadder's sleeping form, and saw Hiccup, seated cross-legged on the Nadder's other side. Inexplicably, the viking's appearance neither surprised nor startled the dragon, but made him grin happily, a small laugh escaping his throat.

"Hiccup," he greeted quietly, with a small nod.

"Hey," Hiccup responded, and the dragon could hear the grin in the human's voice. Immediately, all the questions the night fury had saved up bubbled quickly to the front of his mind. Part of him didn't want to ask those questions, though. It would ruin the lovely moment, and the answers may be ones he would rather forget. But Hiccup's appearances were becoming few and far between, and the questions were ones he needed answers to. Sighing in resignation, the dragon spoke up.

"Hiccup," he began softly. "Is this... Is this a tangent universe?" The viking boy looked over at him, and the dragon could feel the boy's unseen eyes looking him over in careful calculation.

"The end of the world approaches fast," he said finally, sadness evident in his tone. The dragon's heart dropped. If the end of the world - the collapse of the universe - was indeed coming, then this _was_ a tangent universe, and its time was running out. The countdown ticked away in the back of the dragon's mind.

"But then how do we stop it?" he asked frantically, urgently. "There has to be a way." But the viking had turned to gaze at the stars once more, and no answer was forthcoming.

"The vikings, then," the dragon began again, trying to remain undeterred. "The humans - they're not evil, are they? They're not what we thought they were." It was more of a statement than a question, but Hiccup nodded anyway.

"The Red Death has blinded you," Hiccup said sadly, and the night fury frowned. The way Hiccup talked, it seemed as if the Red Death was to blame. But had she done it on purpose? Wasn't she just as confused and misguided as the rest of them? But suddenly he remembered the strange, cold look he had seen on her, the night all this strangeness had begun. Before, he had trusted her utterly, believed her just as all the other dragons had. But now he had his doubts. And it was terrifying.

Wanting to think of anything else, the night fury began to study Hiccup. He looked no different than all the previous times he had seen him; he wore the same obscuring cloak, and held the same lethal-looking dagger that forever dripped red with blood. He was small, but sure. And as always, he was utterly, completely hidden. The dragon frowned. Having missed the opportunity to see Hiccup in Berk, and having always seen Hiccup only in his cloak, the dragon burned with a desire to see what his human friend truly looked like. He had wondered about it, guessed at it, dreamt of it. But he wanted to know. Scowling in annoyance at the black fabric that covered Hiccup's body, the dragon spoke up.

"Why do you wear that stupid man suit?" he wondered, glaring at the black human cloak. But Hiccup's answer was nothing he expected.

"Why do you wear that stupid dragon suit?" Hiccup rejoined, without any real heat. It was a strange question; the night fury looked like a dragon because he _was_ a dragon. _Unless_ , a small voice in the back of his mind spoke up, _you are_ more _than just a dragon. Maybe there is more to you than you realize. Maybe you can accomplish things you never thought possible..._ And there it was again. That sudden feeling of power and potential, welling up within him like lava within a volcano.

 _I can do anything,_ Hiccup had said before. _And so can you._

Once again, the night fury pushed the sense of extraordinary power back, until it receded once more into nothingness. This was madness, surely. Unsettled, the night fury focused again on Hiccup's black cloak. He wanted to see Hiccup - _really_ see him. He wanted to know the viking beneath the cloak. His curiosity burned at his insides until he finally blurted:

"Take it off." The viking turned to look at him, and the night fury bowed his head in embarrassment. He hadn't meant to sound so demanding. "Please," he added, more politely. "I want to see you," he explained earnestly.

"No, you don't," Hiccup said shortly. He sounded as sure of himself as ever.

"I do," the night fury insisted, and this time he was surer. A long moment of silence passed, and Hiccup did not deign to argue back. But just when the night fury started to think that Hiccup might just ignore his request outright, the viking stood. Curious and uncertain, the night fury stood too, and turned to get a good look at the cloaked viking boy. Did he stand up to show himself? Or maybe he was leaving now. Hiccup sighed a defeated sigh, and the dragon knew then that he would get his wish. He watched as Hiccup's slender hands moved up and deftly undid the little silver clasp. And in one fluid movement, the cloak fell, in a whisper, to the floor.

The night fury could not help but take several steps back in horror at what had been revealed. There stood a young viking boy, as small and slender as the dragon had suspected. His hair was a reddish-brown, falling into his emerald eyes in places. He wore a green long-sleeved shirt, a fur vest on top of that, and pants and boots. He looked like a normal, if small, viking boy. None of this inspired any horror in the dragon. What did cause fear to turn his veins to ice was the boy's horrible, unforgettable condition.

There, on Hiccup's torso, was an utterly horrendous burn mark. Large and circular and _horrible_ , it ruined his flesh and singed the remaining fabric of his shirt. There were smaller burn marks around it as well, and there was blood. Too much blood. It darkened his sleeves where he had apparently pressed them to his middle, to staunch the bleeding, or cover the wound, or maybe just as an instinctual reaction to the _pain_ \- the unendurable agony the injury would have indubitably caused. Hiccup's injuries were awful, the grotesque sight of them burning into the dragon's memory. By all accounts, Hiccup should be _dead_. Yet there he stood, expression grim, but eyes holding not even the barest hint of pain or discomfort. He watched the dragon's reaction carefully, and then silently bent down, picked up the discarded cloak, and hid himself once more within its folds. He sat down smoothly next to the blue Nadder, and turned to watch the stars yet again.

The night fury, however, did not find it so easy to resume his former position. Questions and thoughts and fear and concern filled the dragon's mind, and he paced for a minute, unsure where to even begin. _Are you ok?_ was one of the questions that came immediately to mind. But obviously, whatever had hurt him before had ceased to bother the young viking. Finally forcing himself to be still, the night fury sat down again next to the still-sleeping blue Nadder. He turned to face Hiccup, not bothering to hide his emotions, and sighed shakily.

"What happened to you?" he asked quietly. _Who did this to you?_ and _Why?_ were his follow-up questions, but unfortunately, Hiccup only shook his head. This, to the night fury's immense disappointment, was a topic the viking would not delve further into. But now the mysterious viking and his bewildering past (or was it future?) took hold of the night fury's mind with an iron grip. Question after question raced through his mind, and the dragon was more eager than ever before to understand this strange, impossible viking.

"Why do they call you Hiccup?" the dragon asked quietly, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Because that's what I am - a hiccup," the boy replied without missing a beat. His voice sounded as sure as it ever had, and it bothered the dragon to no end.

"I don't believe that," the night fury rejoined, his tone ringing with conviction. The viking turned to look at him, study him.

"Well, you're the first," he said. And he lapsed into silence once more. The dragon followed suit, returning to his thoughts. It was truly weird, he realized, how all of this strangeness - this utter _madness_ \- had become such a regular part of his life now. He remembered his first electrifying encounter with the young viking as if it had happened yesterday. But it had not. There had been lots of time between then and now - time that they didn't have. But the madness continued on and the countdown never slowed.

"Hiccup," the night fury began again, stifling a long-suffering sigh, "when is this going to stop?" If his question sounded desperate, the viking made no mention.

"You should already know that," Hiccup replied smoothly, continuing to stare at the vast expanse of stars. The dragon frowned at this, but knew better than to press the subject. When Hiccup was cryptic about something, he would _not_ be giving any more details. The dragon resigned himself to contemplative silence when, to his great surprise, Hiccup spoke up.

"There's something I want you to see," he said. Curious, the dragon looked over, but the viking was still staring resolutely at the stars. Taking the hint and following his gaze, the dragon stared at the starry heavens, too.

All of a sudden, a patch of stars seemed to glow brighter and brighter until suddenly, he wasn't looking at the stars, but at a bright ball of light, glowing and pulsating in an ethereal rhythm, and the center of it became clear. But inside, he did not see the night sky behind it. He was seeing something else. Something _much_ less beautiful.

He was looking at the center of the dragons' nest, down where the swirling steam hid the roiling lava beneath. But the nest, for some inexplicable reason, did not look comforting as it normally did. For perhaps the first time ever, the night fury looked, and did not see "home". This was someplace dark, someplace terrible. And something horrific was fast approaching. He could feel it; the tension of it tightened his muscles and held his gaze firmly in place as if by hypnotism. And then, out of the mist - a figure. A dreadfully familiar figure.

In deadly silence, the Red Death rose up out of the steam, her bulk parting it and sending creeping tendrils throughout the red caverns. And although she had indeed done this many times, this image here was not one the night fury had seen. It was nothing _any_ of them had seen. This here was a different side of the Red Death - a side that matched perfectly with her fearful name. This was not a caring, protective, and good dragon queen. This was a _monster_ , terrifying and horrible, rising out of the steam like some creature from Helheim itself. And as the night fury watched, the Red Death opened her enormous jaws, rows of lethal teeth bared with murderous intent. And right then - as the rest of the dragons slept in blissful ignorance, she swallowed a Gronckle whole. With a last sinister grin that chilled the night fury to the core, the image rippled, and then vanished.

Willing himself to remain calm, the night fury got up and paced quickly around the cliffside. The dread was set firmly in his stomach now, the fear holding an icy grip on his heart, and he fought to not be sick right there on the rocks. Evil, evil, evil - _that's_ what the Red Death was. And yet they had never known - had never even suspected. Hiding behind her benevolent facade, manipulating the dragons to wage war against humans who did not deserve it, she had been the one pulling the strings all along. The Red Death was the root of all the evil. Dragons disappearing in the dead of night, dragons being killed by humans, vikings being burned alive by vengeful dragon fire - there had been _far_ too much blood for which the blame could not be placed. But now it could. Now, the night fury knew.

The Red Death was responsible for _all_ the blood. And it was time she paid the price.

Without knowing how he knew, the night fury turned as if on instinct to face Hiccup, waiting for the command the viking would give. Sure enough, the young viking had one at the ready. Nodding at the night fury with a fierce meaningfulness, Hiccup gave the order.

"Show it to the dragons."

The night fury vaulted into the sky with speed he did not know he possessed. Inexplicably clear on what he had to do, the dragon flew furiously toward the nest, black wings beating in the blackest sky, ready to expose the blackest of monsters.


	8. The Red Death Revealed

_"Show it to the dragons."_

 _The night fury vaulted into the sky with speed he did not know he possessed. Inexplicably clear on what he had to do, the dragon flew furiously toward the nest, black wings beating in the blackest sky, ready to expose the blackest of monsters._

 **...**

One plasma blast. That was all it took to change the dragons' world forever.

The night fury flew quickly to the dragons' nest, and then patiently waited, hidden, near the entrance. The sound of sleeping dragons reached his ears, but he waited, tense, for a different sort of noise. And then - there it was. The most silent of sounds - the faint swirling of the steam as it was disturbed, the quiet bubble of lava as the Red Death emerged from its depths, and then... the nearly-inaudible sound of jaws being stretched wide open.

The night fury fired.

The plasma blast beat against the cave wall, effectively waking the sleeping dragons and illuminating the entire cave in a bright, revealing light. The Nadders, the Terrors, the Gronckles, the Zipplebacks - all of the many dragons opened their eyes, disturbed, and turned to see the Red Death in the middle of her terrible action, already in motion, the waking of the dragons too abrupt for her to react to. The deed was near done anyway. Her great, powerful jaws closed over the poor, innocent Gronckle. And in one easy swallow, she had signed its death sentence.

Thousands of eyes stared at her, stunned into immobility, and the Red Death looked calculatingly over them all, angry eyes searching for the guilty dragon - the one who had fired the blast and revealed her, finally, for what she was. But the night fury was hidden well, and the Red Death could see nothing but shock and horror in the dragons around her. Giving up on finding the dragon whose death she internally guaranteed, the Red Death turned her attention instead to the dragons still staring at her - still struck dumb with the knowledge of her true, evil self. She looked upon their horrified expressions... and laughed.

It was a truly despicable laugh - smug and harsh and uncaring, and the dragons - _her_ dragons - watched her every move, frozen in their sudden fear. The Red Death could practically hear their little worlds crashing down around their wings, to be replaced with awful reality. Another laugh bubbled up within her, but now was not the time for gloating. Now was the time for action. Someone had revealed her, so now she must reveal herself.

"Ah, my gullible little dragons," she laughed fondly; several dragons stepped back in disgust. "It appears you have found me out," she purred. "So now, I must make myself clear." So saying, she raised herself to her full, _very_ considerable height, and glowered around at them all, taking care to appear as threatening as possible. "The human food you dump down to be incinerated goes, in fact, to me. Those of you who do not bring an ample amount find that you simply disappear one day, during the night, never to be seen again. But you don't disappear; you are, in fact, eaten. Alive. Also, the humans you wage war on are probably not as evil as I make them appear, but as it happens, war is a pleasure of mine." All of this she admitted freely, lightly, and the dragons recoiled in horror and disgust. But none of them flew away; they were drawn, morbidly interested, to her full confessions.

"But let me confess something else to you all," she continued, her tone growing steadily darker. "I _own_ you. All of you. You're all mine. And if you disobey me - if you displease me - if you (gods forbid!) decide to _flee_..." She shook her head disdainfully, mockingly hurt by the thought. Then she lifted her enormous head, and made eye contact with all of them. "If you do anything of these things," she repeated, "I will murder you." Many dragons flinched away, but she was not finished yet.

"Maybe you will die like the Gronckle whose death you just witnessed. Maybe one day, when you least expect it, I will sneak up on you and swallow you whole. Or, perhaps I'll simply fire at you. In the blink of an eye, you're ash upon the wall. But that would be merciful. So maybe I'll pin you down, reach up one enormous claw, and oh-so-carefully remove a wing or two. Let you die slowly, painfully. A downed dragon _is_ a dead dragon, right?" Now, many dragons were beginning to look sickened. Parents hid their hatchlings under their wings, obscuring the Red Death from view. Some used their wings to obscure their own vision of the hideous monster they never knew existed. But none of the dragons tried to flee. The threats were doing their job - mainly because every single dragon knew that the threats were not empty; they _would_ be carried out. And - to the night fury's despair - the threats not only quashed thoughts of flight, but also thoughts of fight. The little fire that had ignited in some dragons' eyes had long gone out, and they ducked their heads, submissive and afraid. Unwilling to stand against the monstrous Red Death. The price was too high. A slow and painful death was not worth an ineffective show of morality. Seeing this, the Red Death only laughed again, the sound settling deep in the depths of her dragons' souls.

"I see we all understand each other," she grinned, pleased. "In that case... good night, my darlings. And remember - there is no corner of this earth in which I cannot _find you_." And she descended back into the obscuring steam and the roiling lava below, her last laugh echoing throughout the nest that no longer felt like home. The nest was a prison now.

Sighing sadly, the night fury watched from his hiding place as the dragons around him accustomed themselves to their new reality. The world view they had once adhered to was shattered now, pieces scattered irreparably around them all. The happy lives they thought they had led - the valiant crusade they thought they were fighting - the good-hearted leader they thought had been protecting them - all of this had been revealed, by one single blast of fire, to be nothing but an illusion of the grandest sort.

But the show was over now; the curtain closed. The magic was gone, and reality came traumatically into its place. The dragons were not warriors fighting for the side of good; they were stooges, manipulated by a monster, and imprisoned with iron chains of terror. They were not themselves anymore - they were _hers_ , as they had been all along. Quiet and despairing chatter traveled lethargically between a few dragons, but most were silent, lost for words. Defeat hung around the nest like fog around a mountain, and the night fury turned away. Disappointment at the continued tyranny of the Red Death filled him, the sour taste of a missed opportunity ripe on his tongue. But there was nothing he could do now. He had done his part; he had revealed the monster. But nothing had come of it - not a thing. He thought again of the Red Death's terrible, self-satisfied laugh, and hung his head in sorrow. Yes, he could see it now. The end of the world fast approaching. For once it seemed real, even tangible. If the Red Death remained at the center of her villainous web, the end of the world could indeed be just around the corner.

Discouraged, the night fury took once more to the skies, hope and energy no longer quickening his pace. He flew slowly and landed sloppily, touching down louder than usual next to the still-sleeping blue Nadder. Hiccup, as he had expected, was nowhere to be seen. The Nadder was the only one there, features arranged in a serene sort of peace. The night fury sighed, reluctant to wake her. But she could not remain ignorant forever, no matter how blissful it was. So he shoved his head against her, gently but firmly, and watched as she opened her eyes, still innocent, still believing herself to be on the side of good. He couldn't bring himself to tell her what had happened.

"It's getting pretty late," he said instead, fighting to keep his voice and expression neutral. The dread of the dragons' situation weighed him down, and he struggled not to show it. "We should get back." Nodding sleepily, the Nadder followed him back to the nest.

When they touched down, dragons in the nearby vicinity rushed over to inform them, quietly and fearfully, about what had transpired.

The night fury tried his best to look surprised.


	9. Pebbled Shore

_When they touched down, dragons in the nearby vicinity rushed over to inform them, quietly and fearfully, about what had transpired._

 _The night fury tried his best to look surprised._

 **...**

The next day passed in one long, dragging eternity, filled with terror, despair, and hopelessness. The Red Death made no appearance, but her presence was felt more strongly than ever before. The tension that hung in the air remained there like a permanent addition, and the night fury could stand it no longer. The next morning, he slipped out and spread his wings against the blood-red dawn. A long flight was exactly the escape he needed.

 _Escape..._ For a moment, the idea of running planted itself neatly in the night fury's mind. He could just leave. Fly away, and never look back. Be free of the Red Death's tyranny, and the high costs of war, and the utter strangeness of this twisted universe. He folded his wings and dived toward the salty sea, pulling up at the last minute to let his wings skim the water. It felt good, and for a moment the dragon imagined himself just continuing on, heading in that same straight line against the ocean's horizon. But that's all it was - a moment's imagination, a dream. He couldn't leave, not really. He was not sure exactly what it was, but something held him here. A sense of loyalty to the other dragons, maybe. Or an odd inkling of a duty that needed to be done. Or perhaps it was simple morbid curiosity - an inexplicable but undeniable compulsion to watch - to know how exactly the world would end.

10 hours, 49 minutes, 31 seconds.

 _What would the others do_ , he wondered, _if they knew they had only hours left?_ Really, he didn't even know what he himself was going to do. Just stand by and wait for the end to come? It's not like there was anything he could do. Was there?

Yearning for some sort of guidance - or comfort or instruction - the night fury turned and headed toward the rocky cliff where he had last seen Hiccup. If he could meet him there again, perhaps the viking could give him some sort of clue. After a minute, the cliff came into view, and the night fury approached it with increasing speed. He scanned the landscape eagerly, searching. A wide grin - the first in what felt like an eternity - flashed across the night fury's face as he was rewarded with the familiar image of the small cloaked viking. He touched down silently next to his human friend.

"Hiccup," he greeted.

"Hey, there," Hiccup responded, a smile in his voice. But he did not look up; he was busy doing something with his hands.

"What are you doing?" the night fury asked curiously, watching the boy's hand move in lines and arches along the dirt. He was holding a small stick in his hand, and was using it to make odd marks in the ground. The dragon tilted his head to a few different angles, trying to understand what Hiccup was drawing, but the symbols were completely foreign to him. After a few seconds, Hiccup finished what he was doing and tossed the stick off to the side, looking down pensively at his finished work. The night fury moved behind him and looked at it, too. And he realized, in a moment of clarity, what Hiccup had been drawing. They were viking symbols - the way the vikings communicated to each other through writing. The night fury, completely unfamiliar, could only guess at the meaning.

"What is that?" the night fury asked, looking from the words to Hiccup, and back again.

"A famous linguist once said that out of all the combinations of words in our language, the most beautiful of all was 'pebbled shore'." Hiccup's explanation was infused with a heavy kind of gravity - a deep meaningfulness that the night fury could not grasp. He looked down again at the words upon the ground.

 _Pebbled shore._

The dragon was about to ask Hiccup exactly what he meant in telling him about 'pebbled shore', but he was distracted as Hiccup stood up abruptly and sighed. It was a sad sigh, drenched in melancholy, with a strange note of finality that unsettled the night fury.

"What's wrong?" the dragon asked, concern and worry tightening his insides with an iron grip. It was probably nothing, but the night fury could not shake the feeling that something terrible was fast approaching. _That would be the end of the world_ , he reminded himself. But somehow that didn't seem to be the answer.

"I'm leaving now," Hiccup replied, and the night fury was surprised out of his thoughts.

"What? Now? But I-"

"For good," the viking finished solemnly. For a moment, the night fury could do nothing but stare.

"For... good?" he repeated. His voice was low and soft, as if afraid the words would become true if spoken too loud. Hiccup bowed his head in silence, demeanor echoing the sadness that began to crash over the night fury in waves.

"Ten hours are all that remains for this universe," Hiccup began quietly.

"Then tell me what to do," the night fury pleaded. "There's got to be something I can do. Please, help me stop this."

"You have everything you need," was Hiccup's only response. "And you need me no longer." The night fury could think of nothing to say, merely watched the viking, open-mouthed. He wanted to protest this - to persuade, to plead, to beg. The end of the world was coming fast, and he didn't want to face it alone. _Couldn't_ face it alone.

"No," the night fury managed finally, a last, desperate mumble that could do nothing to stop the future from unfolding. As he watched, Hiccup raised a slender hand to his head and pulled off the hood of the cloak. His head was revealed, face a little smudged with black, but otherwise un-indicative of the damage the dragon knew was beneath. His kind, freckled face lit up in a small, sad smile, and his emerald eyes looked upon the night fury with fondness.

"Good luck, bud," he whispered, and then he was gone.

 **...**

The flutter of wings signaled someone's approach, and the night fury looked up reluctantly from his sad contemplation of _pebbled shore_ engraved into the dirt before him. It was the blue Nadder, and she touched down lightly next to him.

"There you are," she remarked, smiling a little. She was trying to be cheerful, but the night fury could hear the weariness in her tone. "Where have you been?" she asked. The night fury turned to her, met her eyes, and tried to say something - anything that sounded like a normal conversation. But his thoughts were filled with everything _but_ the normal - time travel, pebbled shore, the eight hours remaining in this world, and the final disappearance of a young viking boy. He found he had nothing to say at all, so he turned and looked out over the ocean instead.

"What's the matter?" the Nadder asked immediately, concerned. "Is it the Red Death?" The night fury sighed, shook his head sadly.

"It's bigger than that," he said.

"Tell me."

"You'd never believe me. _I_ wouldn't believe me." At this, the Nadder nodded, and the night fury thought the subject was dropped. But she spoke up once more, undeterred.

"If I told my past self that the Red Death was an evil, villainous tyrant, I wouldn't have believed myself either," she said. The night fury looked at her, surprised. "So are you gonna tell me this crazy story of yours?"

 **...**

By the time he finished telling her everything, only seven hours remained.

"7 hours, 19 minutes, and 51 seconds," he reiterated. "That's all the time that's left. And then the world will end."

"Okay," she said calmly, and he looked at her in surprise yet again. The Nadder had a positive, persistent spirit that refused to give in. "We've got seven hours. So what are you gonna do about it?" Her confidence in him stunned him for a moment, before the fire of hope re-ignited suddenly within him. She looked to him for his answer, utterly sure that there was something that could be done to change the grim course that their world was currently on. And, the night fury realized, Hiccup had been just as sure. _You have everything you need_ , Hiccup had said. There was a good clue, the dragon recognized. So, what did he have?

"The elder," he said out loud, as the epiphany fanned the flame of hope that began to blaze brighter still. "The old viking woman," he told the Nadder. "We need to find her. If anyone knows how to stop this, she does." The blue Nadder nodded at him, reading the conviction in his eyes.

"Good," she pronounced, tensing to take flight. "But we need to hurry."

"Agreed." The night fury prepared to take off as well.

"Oh, and one more thing." The night fury looked over at the Nadder as she spoke, tilting his head in curiosity.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm going to beat you there," she smirked, and she shot into the air before he could so much as blink.

 **...**

They took the shortest route, and got to Berk in record time. The Nadder followed the night fury to the elderly woman's hut, and together they landed silently upon her roof. They crept up quietly, and peered eagerly over the edge.

No one was there.

A seed of panic beginning to plant itself inside the night fury, the black dragon lifted off and flew a quick circle around the hut. The woman was not there. The place was empty. But that was not the only thing strange, the night fury realized. The whole village seemed... off. He motioned for the Nadder to follow him, and together they flew stealthily around the village, a cursory examination. And the night fury realized what was weird.

It was quiet. _Too_ quiet. The kind of quiet so unnatural that it practically screamed danger. The dragons zoomed around a few of the houses again, and then vaulted up into the sky, above the clouds.

"They're gone," the night fury explained, bewildered.

"The vikings?" the Nadder asked, unsettled. "What do you mean they're gone?" she asked. "Where did they go?" Yes, that was the question, wasn't it? If there was a chance at righting the universe, the key to it lay with the viking elder; the night fury had no doubt. But where was she? Where did they go? What place...?

 _Place._ The word sparked a memory within the dragon, and his expression cleared in a moment of incredible enlightenment. This tangent universe was sheer, utter madness - but perhaps the madness had a meaning after all. Was it possible that there were no coincidences?

 _A famous linguist once said that out of all the combinations of words in our language, the most beautiful of all was 'pebbled shore'._

Images of all the places he knew flipped through his mind in rapid succession. It had to be somewhere - that pebbled shore. And then, the answer hit him like a bolt of lightning. He could see it now - the millions of pebbles that made up the cold island shore, icy water rippling over them in dying waves. The shore of the island on which the dragons' nest sat. _Pebbled shore._

"Come on," he told the Nadder. "I know where we need to go."

 **...**

The fog began to set in with ominous thickness, but still the two dragons pressed on. They were getting closer. And then, they could hear it - the sound of dragons. For a second, the two flew on like normal, until the sound they were hearing finally registered with them.

They were hearing the sound of other dragons, which would be normal if they were at the nest. But although they were close, they hadn't reached the island - not yet. They shouldn't be able to hear the dragons from here, unless... the dragons were out of the nest, too. Exchanging questioning glances, the two of them flew faster, toward the noise, and soon caught up to a slow-flying Monstrous Nightmare, who acknowledged them with a grim nod.

"What's going on here?" the Nadder asked him.

"You weren't with the raid?" the Nightmare returned.

"There was a raid?" The night fury and the Nadder exchanged worried glances.

"Aye," the Nightmare acknowledged. "The Red Death ordered us on another raid to Berk. But we've had enough of her orders," he said, and he grinned at them darkly. "We flew to Berk," he explained, "and then took the time to plot against the Red Death. She's evil; she has too much power; and she _must_ be destroyed." At these words, they caught up with several other dragons flying ahead of them, and many of them growled in agreement. The heavy fog melted away as they drew closer to the island, and now the night fury and the blue Nadder could see. A large swarm of dragons flew just before them, spread out in a defensive formation, obviously ready for war. But not against the vikings this time. This time, they would fight the Red Death.

Growls and roars filled the air around them, and the righteous anger and bloodlust were radiating off of the dragons in waves. They flew steadily toward the dragons' nest, intent on their uprising.

"Down with the Red Death," one growled viciously.

"Death to the bloody tyrant."


	10. The Drums of War

_Growls and roars filled the air around them, and the righteous anger and bloodlust were radiating off of the dragons in waves. They flew steadily toward the dragons' nest, intent on their uprising._

 _"Down with the Red Death," one growled viciously._

 _"Death to the bloody tyrant."_

 **...**

In one determined mass, the dragons flew over the pebbled shore, now mere wingstrokes away from the volcano they had once called home. Their rebelliousness and sinister intentions were clear in their postures, in their menacing growls, and in their threatening words. The desire for violence permeated the very air. It seemed as if the world itself was stirring, rumbling, writhing. Gray storm clouds appeared overhead, and the sound of distant thunder began to beat the drums of war.

Slowly at first, and then with increasing fervor, dragons began to trickle and then pour out of the nest, flying to station themselves with the rebelling dragons. Choosing their side. Joining the war that waited impatiently, mere minutes from igniting in a blood-red blaze of dragon fire. Soon, all of the dragons had either sided with the rebellion or flown away to seek shelter, and the only living thing remaining within the scorching depths of their former home was the very one they sought to fight - the Red Death. The rebelling dragons waited, their masses swirling like the clouds above. A low rumbling filled the air, shook the ground beneath them. This was it. She was coming...

But suddenly, someone else came first.

Yells and shouts and cheers began to emerge from below - ones that were decidedly not dragon. Looking down, the dragons watched as viking ships began to melt one by one out of the fog, their keels cutting easily into the rough pebbled shore. They piled out onto the land, and hurriedly gathered together, readying weapons and making battle plans, eyes glaring over at the already-amassed dragons, and tracking their movements with suspicion and unrestrained hatred. The dragons stared back - in utter astonishment. How had these vikings found their nest? Why had they attacked now, of all times? Did their arrival change the rebellion at all? A flurry of uncertain conversation traveled among the dragons, and as they struggled to come to terms with the changed situation, the night fury exchanged meaningful glances with the blue Nadder on his left. This rebellion was not their war. They had a different mission entirely.

Sneaking away from the rest of the dragons, the night fury and the Nadder flew off to hide behind some boulders not far from the scheming humans. Soundlessly, they peeked around the edges of their hiding place, and scanned the viking crowd with urgent scrutiny. The arrival of the humans had not been quite so shocking to the night fury or the Nadder, as they had flown there with the specific purpose of finding a human - a specific human. The little viking elder.

"I don't see her," the night fury announced, after a minute of careful searching. "But she has to be here. Hiccup gave me the clue about the pebbled shore for a reason. It was no coincidence," he said strongly. "I know it."

"Then, we'll have to get closer," the Nadder reasoned. "If we're going to stop the end of the world, we need to find her. We can't give up." The night fury nodded at this, and the two of them looked over at the humans once more, searching for another viable hiding place that would get them as close as possible to the vikings.

"There," the night fury decided, gesturing to another fairly-large outcrop of rocks. It was perfect. So close to the humans, they could almost touch them. And the night fury saw an added bonus - the viking leader was right there, too. Perhaps they would overhear something important, like the location of the elder, or maybe (part of him hoped) something about the illusive Hiccup. Anxiously, the night fury watched for a safe opening, and then gestured to the Nadder, who followed him swiftly and silently to their new hiding spot.

"...absolutely brilliant idea, Stoick," one viking was saying heartily, clapping the viking leader on the shoulder. "Waiting in the direction we knew their nest was, and then following the group of dragons that came back from the raid on Berk. By the gods," he marveled, "that was a perfect plan!" The night fury and the Nadder exchanged glances; at least now they knew how the vikings had found the nest.

"Thank you, Spitelout," Stoick replied, nodding appreciatively. "Actually," he admitted conversationally, "it was Hiccup who gave me the idea."

"Hiccup?!" the other viking wondered, shocked. And the night fury was just as surprised. _Hiccup_ had lead the vikings to the nest? But how-

And then he remembered. Hiccup had given Stoick the idea, but not on purpose. And moreover, the night fury had _been there_ when it happened...

 _"I'm sure only a dragon can find the dragons' nest," the viking boy said unhelpfully, a note of finality entrenched in his tone. And at that moment, the night fury knew exactly which house it was. There, the house on the hill. With mounting excitement, the dragon swooped over to the tall wooden structure, and carefully peered through the window._

 _The wooden interior was alit with a soft, warm flickering glow that radiated from a large fireplace against the opposite wall. There was a sturdy wooden table just a short distance from it, and there sat a formidable-looking viking indeed. Seeming as strong and sturdy as the house itself, the viking turned slightly, staring at nothing, lost in thought. But his head was turned at just the right angle so that the night fury could see the viking's face clearly. The man's expression, oddly, was lit - but not by the fire. The dragon recognized the glow of understanding that comes with the beginnings of an idea._

That was the moment right there, the night fury realized with a shudder. That had been the very moment Hiccup's words had been the inspiration for a daring new plan - a plan that would surely get all the vikings killed. The night fury let the sounds of the vikings' conversation roll over him without really listening. He watched the hurried movements of the other vikings on the ground. Saw the crafting of large, wooden spikes. Heard the scraping of stone on steel. He looked to the dragons in the sky, locked in frenzied debate. And he felt the low rumbling in the ground - the stirring of the monster below.

"...might not be the worst viking in history after all, eh, Stoick?" the night fury heard. Attention back on the conversation, the black dragon watched as the viking leader nodded, eyes full of determination, and the spark of ill-contained hope.

"Maybe not," he agreed. "He may yet become great." He was quiet for a moment, the smallest of sighs escaping his lips, and then he spoke up again. "But," he began firmly, "until then, he is no fighter. I ordered him to remain in Berk. I don't want him mixed up in this fight. It will get ugly." The other viking nodded, and the two of them looked to the sky, eyeing the many dragons and the storm clouds still darkening above. The night fury, though, felt only relief. The viking chief was right; this night _would_ get ugly, and the dragon was very glad that Hiccup, at least, was out of harm's way. But that still left one person unaccounted for.

"There!" the Nadder whispered suddenly, and the night fury started. "Is that her? I see an old viking woman with a staff." Eagerly, the night fury looked in the indicated direction.

"Yes!" he cheered, relief rushing through him yet again. It was her. They had found her. But then there was the problem of getting to her without being seen. She was surrounded by a few other vikings, who were erecting a tent above her, and setting various jars, herbs, and jugs around her. For healing, the night fury reasoned. She must have come in order to heal those injured in battle. The vikings had probably figured that this was a battle whose wounds would be more serious than usual; they would need a viking healer, not just a few warriors with rudimentary healing knowledge. The night fury feared they were right. This war would be a bloody one indeed.

"How can we get to her?" the Nadder asked, bringing the night fury out of his grim musings. "We'd be spotted." The black dragon nodded in agreement.

"We'll have to wait," he said. "Once this war starts, the other vikings will be fighting, and she will be alone then."

"Okay," the Nadder nodded. And then the ground rumbled beneath them all, stronger this time. "Looks like we won't have to wait long," she murmured. They looked up together at the dragons in the sky, and wondered what decision, if any, they had made. And in an unspoken agreement, the Nadder and the night fury flew up to join the teeming mass of hovering dragons. It sounded like a decision had already been reached.

"But this changes things!" one Gronckle burst out desperately, looking extremely nervous. "The vikings are here!" But the other dragons looked resolute.

"This changes nothing," a Nightmare declared solemnly. "The Red Death dies tonight."

As soon as the words were spoken, the ground shook with tremendous force, knocking many of the vikings off their feet. The dragons turned towards the volcano, and as they watched, the opening split with a gigantic _crack_.

The sound reverberated through the air, many times louder than the approaching thunder. And then there was a moment of calm. A second of silence as time seemed to slow. A slice of infinity in which nobody moved and everyone watched. The world was still.

And then - _crack_. The volcano splintered open with incredible force, enormous chunks of rock flying out from all sides, crashing onto the hard earth and exploding like a rain of bombs. Bits of rock and thick, gray dust rose up into existence. The world was washed in gray, filled with the sound of the dragons' former home crumbling down into nothingness.

And out of the dust, out of the ashes, a hulking figure rose. Easily the size of all the opposing dragons put together, the Red Death stepped out of the roiling lava beneath and slammed herself onto the defeated earth outside. The vikings watched in disbelief and terror. The dragons watched in hatred and fear. And the Red Death looked on with murderous intent. Her many eyes rolled around in her head, taking in each and every one of her challengers, human and dragon. And then she smiled a terrible smile, made out of malice and death and all things unholy. A roar like no other sound on earth exploded from her horrible jaws, and the sickly-sweet stench of decay was thrown at all of her challengers in a powerful gush.

The vikings clenched their weapons. The dragons readied their fire. The Red Death laughed humorlessly, and then charged.

"I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL."


	11. The End of the World

_The vikings clenched their weapons. The dragons readied their fire. The Red Death laughed humorlessly, and then charged._

 _"I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL."_

 **...**

Everything was noise. The Red Death, the opposing dragons, and the tide of vikings all roared as they charged forward, their war cries blending together into one cacophonous symphony. And in the next instant, the cries ceased suddenly, replaced and overshadowed by the sounds of war. Spears met scales; claws met shields; fire met fire, and chaos bloomed across the battlefield like blood-red roses in the spring.

The night fury and the blue Nadder flew high above the fight together, narrowly avoiding spears and catapults and columns of fire. Cautiously, they tried to stay out of the battle, and instead kept their eyes trained on the little viking elder, who was watching the chaos with a grim expression. The vikings near her were rapidly being drawn into the battle, running off to aid their fellow tribesmen. And then, after a few tense minutes of dodging and surveillance, the two dragons saw their chance.

"She's alone!" the Nadder shouted above the din, a small note of triumph in her voice. "Let's go!" Wasting no time, the night fury dived with the Nadder just behind him, and they aimed determinedly for the viking elder. The night fury honestly didn't know what he was going to do when he got there, but nevertheless it was the only thing running through his mind. _Get to the elder._ Hiccup had left him for good, and so the only place he would be able to get advice from was the viking elder. She was, he figured, his only shot. If he was going to stop this universe from collapsing-

The night fury was forced out of his worried thoughts as a particularly loud viking's yell reached his ears. It was one of the vikings near the elder, and he had called out fiercely, "Gothi, look out!" Turning to the source of the noise, the night fury watched as the viking picked up a nearby spear and threw it, hard. The viking next to him lent his help, too, and tossed a wide, heavy net in the night fury's direction. Swerving smoothly and efficiently, the night fury dodged both with ease, and felt suddenly lighter; the way to the elder was now utterly clear, and fiery relief coursed through his veins for the briefest of moments, only to be cut off almost immediately. A cry of pain from directly behind him shattered his concentration, driving every single thought out of the night fury's head. Whirling around in midair, the night fury watched in unadulterated horror as the blue Nadder dropped heavily to the stony earth below amidst a sudden, sickening spray of red. Both the spear and the net had found their mark.

Diving down to the battlefield below, the night fury landed at the Nadder's side, feeling his world start to crumble around him. The spear had gotten her in the neck, and a spray of bright, arterial red was steadily darkening the rope net that remained tangled around her. She was thrashing around, mouth open in a silent scream, unable to make noise. The night fury moved quickly around to try to make eye contact with her - to comfort her, help her, anything. Speech abandoned the black dragon as he looked into the Nadder's eyes and saw... nothing. No recognition of him whatsoever. No recognition of the battle around her. Only fear and pain shone at him through her sparkling eyes, which seemed to be growing dimmer and dimmer. She was jerking frantically now, and the night fury swallowed thickly as he realized that she was not trying to get out of the net. She was not trying to get the spear out, nor attempting to stand. In fact, all rational thought seemed to have left her, and only primal fear remained. Her body thrashed in its death throes, caught undignified in the net, and the night fury could do nothing but stare. Unable to watch and yet unable to look away. And then, quite suddenly, she was gone. Dead.

The war still raging around him was only background noise now. It faded into a cold, insignificant gray as a stifling disbelief immobilized the night fury. The Nadder that had stuck with him through all of this craziness, the friend that had been a constant source of warmth and hope... She was gone forever. Had he saved her all those days ago just for her to die anyway? The disbelief ebbed away slowly as the truth of what he was seeing finally reached his uncomprehending mind. And in its place, a furious anger sparked into existence. How could this have happened? The killing blow of the spear was bad enough, but the net had added insult to injury. The image of her flailing helplessly in its confines was burned into his mind. This wasn't fair. This wasn't right. This wasn't acceptable. The anger within him swelled into a manic fury, and as the noise of the battle entered his awareness once more, the black dragon could see only red. Enraged, he tore his eyes away from the dreadful sight before him.

The fight had moved away from them, leaving the night fury and the Nadder's body alone in a sea of debris and death. Several dragons had already been killed, and lifeless vikings littered the island ground. Random outcroppings of rock were sprayed with red and scorched with black. The death and destruction weighed the night fury down until he was suffocating in tragedy. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, the dragon closed his eyes and shot off a plasma blast randomly, letting off his emotions in that one powerful shot. He needed to pull himself together; he needed to-

"Oof!" It was the smallest huff of air that reached his sensitive ears, the sound tinged with surprise and pain. The dragon's heart skipped a beat as he realized that the sound had come from the direction he had fired his plasma blast. Cold fear drenched him once more, dousing his fiery anger like a candle in a hurricane. That plasma blast was just a way to let off his feelings... He hadn't actually hit anything... had he?

Carefully, the night fury stepped over the debris of the battle and made his way toward the unknown sound to investigate. It had come from behind an outcrop of rock that stood fairly close by. Low to the ground, the dragon edged forward until he could see behind it, keeping a safe distance. And there, behind the rocks, was a human, clothed in black and facing away from the dragon. The figure was bent over with one hand against the rock in a feeble attempt to stay upright.

"Guess I shouldn't have snuck onto that boat," the human muttered ruefully to himself, an undeniable note of pain lacing itself into his tone. "Shoulda... st-stayed..." A thrill of terror like nothing he had ever felt before ran through the night fury like an electric shock. _That voice... Oh, gods, that voice..._

Perhaps sensing the dragon's presence, the figure turned suddenly in his direction, hand slipping off the rock. The viking fell hard onto the ground as a result, and the black cloak that was too big for its wearer slipped cleanly off. The sight beneath stole the breath from the night fury's lungs. It was a small, thin viking boy with reddish-brown hair and bright, emerald green eyes. His face was smudged with black, features screwed up in agony. And there, on his torso, were the sickeningly familiar injuries. The horribly grotesque burn mark. The blood. All the blood.

The wounded viking used his right hand to prop himself up off the ground, while wrapping the other tightly around his middle, hissing in pain. Then he looked up and met eyes with the staring dragon. The night fury saw his own terror reflected back.

"Hiccup?" the dragon questioned fearfully, voice cracking. "N- no. No, no. What are you doing here?" he breathed, the words tumbling out almost without conscious thought. Frantically, the night fury stumbled forward, hurrying towards his human friend.

But Hiccup recoiled, shrank back in fear, and the night fury could see confusion behind the terror in the boy's eyes. And in a flash, the dragon realized - this Hiccup could not understand him. Sadly and cautiously, the night fury moved slowly forward instead, hoping to convey in his body language that he meant no harm. Hiccup's eyes tracked the dragon's movements carefully, but he didn't back away this time; in fact, the night fury could see curiosity filling the viking's expression. But then, the boy blanched, his face suddenly going as white as the clouds on a blue sky day. His eyelids drooped, his features slackened, and the arm he was using to hold himself up abruptly gave way beneath him.

Heart racing, the night fury closed the distance between himself and the collapsed viking, who used his remaining strength to roll himself onto his back. This allowed the boy to look right up into the face of the night fury. Some of the pain seemed to have left Hiccup, a tired kind of weakness taking its place upon his features. He was bleeding out, the dragon knew, and he could do nothing but watch as the blood continued to flow freely, darkening Hiccup's clothes and drenching the sleeve of the arm still cradled carefully around his middle. A glint of metal attracted the dragon's attention, and the night fury noticed that the hand covering the wound held something else - a small silver dagger. The very same one he had seen many times before. Hiccup's own blood flowed over the clean blade, and it dripped a terrifying scarlet. There was a swooping sensation in the night fury's stomach; the menacing-looking dagger was never menacing at all. It gleamed with the viking's own blood. Hiccup had probably never harmed a thing in his life. Tearing his eyes away from the sight, the dragon looked again into Hiccup's eyes, and saw that the boy had been following his gaze. Hiccup blinked slowly, then, with effort, turned his head to look meaningfully in another direction. The night fury followed his gaze, and saw that Hiccup was staring pointedly at the body of the Deadly Nadder, still wrapped unforgivingly in the net. The night fury swallowed and looked back at Hiccup, who wore a meaningful expression; he was trying to explain something.

"Was gonna... cut... f-free..." he finally managed, with difficulty. A wave of immense sorrow crashed over the night fury and threatened to drown him in its shadowy depths, as he realized what must have happened. Hiccup had been sneaking over to them, dagger in hand, in an attempt to cut the rope off of the Nadder, to let her die with dignity. But the boy had been too late, and when the night fury fired off a plasma blast in his anger at her passing, he had been standing in exactly the wrong spot...

A sharp hiss of pain brought the night fury back to the present. Hiccup had scrunched his eyes closed, tears leaking out of the sides. His fists were clenched tightly, knuckles white, and his whole body was rigid with tension. Wanting to provide comfort, the night fury moved his head closer until his hot breath was on Hiccup's face, blowing Hiccup's bangs out of his eyes. Then he ducked his head and nudged the viking boy with it. At this, Hiccup opened his eyes again, and - inexplicably - smiled. Though pained and weak and losing life fast, his smile was completely genuine. Wanting to keep up the positivity, the dragon quickly studied the human's smile and then carefully imitated it, retracting his teeth to show the boy that he meant no harm. To his delight, Hiccup's smile widened further in response. And then Hiccup laughed, high-pitched and a little insane, but happy nonetheless. The laughter broke off into a weak cough that brought blood out onto his lips, but Hiccup was still smiling, staring at the night fury's mouth with slightly unfocused eyes.

"You're... T-tooth... less..." And then the smile faded slowly from his features. His emerald eyes glazed over. There was a light in them that was not the light of life; it was a reflection - a reflection of the fires raging from the battle all around them. Numbly, the night fury turned and looked around.

There was more death here than he had ever seen before. The bodies of dragons and vikings alike lay strewn across the cold ground, while the others continued fighting to the death. The Red Death towered above them all, still undefeated, and everywhere the night fury looked, vikings were falling dead. Dragons, too, were falling out of the sky to crash into the earth below. Innocent lives were being lost every second. The blue Nadder was dead. And now, Hiccup. _This is how the world ends_ , the night fury thought. _This is how the universe comes crashing down, and I did nothing to prevent it._

The dragon closed his eyes in shame, and searched through his memories for comfort. Races with the blue Nadder. Flights to Berk. Conversations with Hiccup.

 _Do you believe in time travel?_

The night fury snapped his eyes open, a fire igniting suddenly within him. It was the question that had started it all. And - it was the question that could end it all. The night fury thought back to the lessons from the viking elder, the conversations with the wise old Gronckle. The odd sight of balls of light that predicted future movements.

 _I can do anything,_ Hiccup had told him once. _And so can you._ For the third time, the night fury felt that weird sort of power begin to escalate within him, until the blood was rushing through his veins and his heart was racing faster than ever. But this time, he didn't question it. Didn't stop it. Didn't fear it. He embraced the strange power, let it burn within him as he remembered the very last talk he'd had with Hiccup.

 _You have everything you need_ , the viking had said. And indeed, he did.

 _Do you believe in time travel?_

The end of the world was here, and the night fury had done nothing to prevent it. But maybe prevention had never been the point. From the very moment the universe had skewed off tangent, the events drove them inexorably toward the end of the world. The dragon could not stop it.

But he could rewrite it.

He could travel back to the exact moment in which the universe had skewed. He could make sure none of this ever happened. No dragon lives lost, nor human lives. The blue Nadder would live. And Hiccup... Hiccup would live. The feeling of power reached a peak inside the night fury, and he knew, beyond a doubt, that he could re-do the moment that ruined everything. He could set the universe back on its intended path. He could do anything.

The dragon turned to look one last time at Hiccup's body, his empty eyes that reflected the destruction all around them, and the sight stiffened his resolve. He would fix this.

And so the night fury closed his eyes...


End file.
